Accidental Magic
by McGonagall's Bola
Summary: Hermione finally takes the step to leave her unhappy marriage, unable to keep fighting for what was never meant to be. Ron doesn't let go that easily, convinced that they belong together... which leaves its consequences. Hermione tries to deal with it on her own somehow, but... is she truly that? - Under Construction
1. Prologue

❀Prologue

**July 2019**

"I finally managed to get Hugo asleep. He's been talking about basically nothing else but Hogwarts since he received his letter yesterday," Hermione announced… but Ron wasn't even listening, and his non-responsiveness didn't particularly alleviate Hermione's mood. "Ronald Weasley!" she hissed, wary of their children asleep right upstairs. It had taken half an hour of reading until Hugo's exhaustion had gotten stronger than his great enthusiasm, and as such she didn't really feel like waking him or Rose if it wasn't necessary again. Ron faced her at last, disinterest obvious. "Do you ever listen?" she questioned, exasperated. "You don't even seem to be remotely interested in your own children since our divorce anymore."

Ron shrugged, carelessly so. "I never wanted to get divorced."

"Well, why don't you go blame me… again."

"You wanted a divorce to begin with," Ron replied angrily, his ears turning scarlet. "We were happy together!" he shouted.

"You thought we were all happy together, but I hadn't been for a great many years…"

"Why didn't you just… tell me?!" He sounded rather annoyed.

"I often tried, Ronald, but you wouldn't listen to anything that I said, and I couldn't take it any longer. You just behaved like I was exaggerating," Hermione returned, "and would you be quieter? The children are asleep, right upstairs." She pointed her forefinger to emphasize what she was saying.

He stepped near her, taking hold of her left arm gently. Hermione swallowed audibly, Ron's blue eyes boring into hers, his voice strangely soft when he spoke her, like she hadn't heard since their marriage possibly. "Please, 'Mione..." he began, letting his warm hand slowly trail her arm. "We could try again. I'm sure our children would…"

Hermione's tear-filled hazel eyes connected with his blue ones. She really hated when he used that and took advantage of her motherly emotions. "Would our children be happier watching us fight again every day? Please, Ronald, don't tell me that it won't be the exact same this time, because it undoubtedly will…"

Ron suddenly leaned in then, his lips upon hers. Hermione initially fought his touch, but very soon she couldn't do anything but give in. If the rumors were true, Ron hadn't been missing any intimacy, but she hadn't really been touched in months, and like everyone else, Hermione Granger sometimes needed just that. The need for air only caused the end of their kiss, and when it did, they eyed one another half-shocked, and yet quite unsurprised, too. "If you tell me that really didn't do anything to you, I'll––"

"Ronald, you aren't being fair!" Hermione interrupted him. "I love you, but––"

"Then… what's the issue?" Ron questioned, already leaning down to capture her delicious mouth with his again with an unmatched fierceness –– one Hermione hadn't ever experienced. She couldn't fight it as with ease, Ron lifted her on the kitchen counter and began to tug at her clothes.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

**August 2019**

There was a good reason why Hermione Granger hadn't gone to St. Mungo's or a Healer but to one of the numerous Muggle gynecologists in London. If not, half of the Wizarding world would already know now that she, the 'brain' of the Golden Trio, was having a third child, age thirty-nine, nearly eleven years after her only son and a year after her divorce. The _Daily Prophet _would make an immediate headline of it, making the Wizarding world ponder about whom could be the unborn's father. Predictable enough was that most would not anticipate it to be her ex-spouse's. The most unlikely of parties would be considered; the news would be related to the divorce –– many would go and assume unfaithfulness as a reason. She sighed; she knew she would have to deal with that anyway in not too long. She would begin to show in a few months' time, and then all hell would break loose anyhow.

There was a good reason why she had Apparated to Hogsmeade, walking the remaining distance to Hogwarts' gates, and not just to Harry and Ginny or home. Pulling anyone –– especially Harry or Ginny –– in between Ronald and her was the last that she wanted to do. Ginny was after all still her ex's sister, no matter how good a companion Ginny Potter had been through the years and was still and no matter how good she really knew her brother and his sometimes unbearable behavior. She would want to know who had fathered this child, and Hermione would have to admit Ron had. Ginny and she had always had that unvoiced promise since their Hogwarts years to never keep secrets from each other, especially when asked about them. It definitely had been hard enough hiding her doubts and fears, which had begun to manifest in especially the last few days. She wasn't really nauseous, like with Rose and Hugo, but her body now felt a little sensitive, like she felt when getting her period. She had attributed all that she had felt to her getting her period and the lack of sleep lately, but she hadn't actually gotten that period…

Ron and she had not been living together anymore for now nearly two years, and it had been over a year since the end of their marriage was finalized, but still, Hermione Granger hadn't really adapted to the situation quite yet with her living back at her family home. That particular fact had remained fairly personal for only two months, until Rita Skeeter had somehow heard about the news and had begun to write, sprouting a lot of false rumors which were often painful and hard to ignore, even though Hermione knew that that was the best way to go about it all with Rita. She was after all known for always misconstruing everything, creating sensation and consternation.

She could well imagine Ginny saying that a reconciliation was better with a third child on the way, and although Hermione could see how and why this was a sensible suggestion, she couldn't do it. Hermione knew that, deep inside, even though it had never really been mentioned, Ginny had never truly understood the how and why of the divorce, and that she was convinced Hermione and her brother really belonged together. Hermione knew that the Weasleys and her mother and father all shared the same opinion, and that was why she wasn't keen on sharing the news with them. She chose not to ponder on how Ronald might react.

She just didn't know what to do, and thus she sought for the advice of the one person she knew would never judge her or her feelings but look at everything rationally and run through the options with her –– someone she felt she could rely on at all times; someone Hermione knew only ever would share her opinion when asked about it, without pushing, without prying. Those qualities were valued a truly great deal by Hermione, and always had been.

Hermione couldn't imagine having the child adopted or aborted; she couldn't imagine not having it, but she didn't know just how to go about the situation. She never would have thought that she would get herself in this kind of situation, where adoption or abortion would ever even cross her mind. She nibbled her lip as she came to a halt at the tall gates of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and her grip on the baby's first sonogram tightened into her left robe pocket.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Minerva McGonagall fleetingly smiled at the House-Elf called Elly Apparating beside her chair with the requested tea and biscuit tray. The Elf bowed deep in return after having set the tray down on the low table between Minerva and Hermione, then disappeared from sight with a nod and a bang. In quiescence, the former headmistress reached for the teapot, pouring both Hermione and herself a cup. She set the pot down again, taking hold of her cup and sipping carefully while clutching the porcelain between her fingers, eying the other woman over the rim of her eyeglasses. Years had gone by, and still Hermione again Granger looked as much like the pupil that had once attended Hogwarts as ever right then. She didn't immediately reach for her tea and was biting her bottom lip nervously, gazing down to nothing in particular.

Minerva serenely lowered her tea cup, delicately placing it into her lap. "What's the matter, Hermione?" she questioned. "I highly doubt you've come to visit your old professor for no reason at all, and if it wasn't really anything of importance, you would certainly have Owled."

Hermione at last lifted her gaze, unshed tears in the mocha of her eyes at what had made her come there –– that and the accuracy of Minerva's words. When Hermione was back at Hogwarts to take N.E.W.T. studies, the line between being teacher and pupil had been somewhat blurred. Minerva McGonagall had, of course, remained flawlessly professional in her role of 'teacher', and nothing that could be frowned upon had really happened either, but having lived through a war which both of them had had such a crucial part in, had created some kind of bond, and so on Friday or Saturday evenings, Minerva and Hermione would occasionally have tea together and talk about what had happened in the year Hermione hadn't been at Hogwarts –– the year Minerva McGonagall for once had been clueless about the Gryffindor's welfare. Transfiguration articles would be discussed at times, and at others the women would barely speak at all, enjoying each other's company. Then Hermione had graduated and immediately moved in with the Weasleys. Minerva and Hermione had certainly Owled each other, regularly –– at least at first –– and had enjoyed talking to each other when Minerva attended for Christmas and New Years at the Burrow and sometimes Easter. For the rest of the year, the women had never seen one another anymore, and in the end their letters by owl had come less often to rarely.

A lot had changed in twenty years. Hermione had become a wife and a mother of two, an ex… Yet at the same time things had somehow not changed at all. Even though Minerva McGonagall might be bordering on the age of ninety-four, her appearance hadn't really changed since she had been the other Gryffindor's teacher. She did no longer teach or run the school as a headmistress, but she had remained at Hogwarts, with Filius Flitwick as its Head. It wasn't necessarily that Minerva hadn't been able to do her tasks as a headmistress anymore, but after three grueling wars, having reigned Hogwarts for near two decades, time had come to let the younger ones replace her and let her live the rest of her maybe fifty or more years left peacefully.

Minerva and Hermione hadn't seen each other since New Years, and still it felt like it had been only yesterday that they had had their conversation about the sensational article of Mrs. Oldknow in _Transfiguration Today_. Conversation had flowed between them incredibly easily, always had, yet now… The most meaningful thing that had not changed was Hermione's confidence in the older woman, that and her maybe childish belief that Minerva would be able to make everything better for her.

Guilt overwhelmed Hermione as teal colored eyes connected with soft mocha. "I'm sorry for not having contacted you as much…"

"That's alright," Minerva replied, sincerely. "You have been rather busy with your job at the Ministry and running a household with two lovely children."

"I should have made time to Owl you," Hermione said, finally reaching for her cup of tea, yet not lifting it to her lips. Minerva intuitively took her cup as well. "I should have done a lot of things that I didn't." Hermione sighed upon seeing the confusion in Minerva's eyes, the question and pulled her hand from her left robe pocket, laying the heavily creased first tiny sonogram on the low table between them –– the reason for her visit.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Minerva's eyes flickered to the item upon the table, before lifting up to meet Hermione's and hold them for a long moment. Finally averting her gaze, she then reached for the sonogram. She noticed a dark blur on the very left, surrounded by light grey. The picture was vague, and Minerva couldn't quite recognize a child in it yet, but she knew what her former star pupil was trying to tell her. Words were not necessary. The ex-Headmistress tried to read the small text on the left. She squinted as she did.

"I'm five weeks along now," Hermione whispered, having noticed. "I haven't told anyone. You're the first."

Minerva laid the sonogram down on the table that separated them and turned her attention to Hermione entirely. She considered the situation carefully. At last, she said in a calm and unclipped tone, "I assume, given the fact that the news of the child that rests and develops in your womb now has resulted in this visit, and also given the state you're in, that you had not calculated on conceiving last month at all?"

Hermione quietly shook her head to answer Minerva's question, even though she knew it must have been rather rhetorical. Minerva McGonagall was a perceptive woman indeed, and it unnerved and comforted her at the same time, and she had had that effect on her since she first met the older witch.

She felt the need to elucidate, and Hermione desperately wanted to be able to say that she hadn't acted foolishly and irresponsibly… but she couldn't, because she felt that that was exactly what she had done. No day since had gone by that she hadn't chastised herself for what had happened, even before she knew she was having a child again. She decided not to say anything at all; she couldn't undo what had happened that night anyway, and it was the consequences she needed to focus on now instead. She loved her children dearly, and she knew she would love this third child as well, but so much had changed now since Hugo and Rose…

"This came so very ill-timed," Hermione whispered. "It hasn't been one year since I got divorced. There'll be questions and more rumors."

Minerva watched as Hermione stood and began to pace, holding herself.

"This is not going to be easy, at all…" Hermione continued. "I'm thirty-nine years old, and I am under a lot of stress at the Ministry –– especially lately. I nearly miscarried already with Rose, when I was in my fourth month." She stopped at the window, looking through the layer of glass at the ripples in the Lake and the rest of the sunny landscape. She hadn't been there in quite a while and had forgotten how incredibly beautiful Hogwarts could be. She ripped her eyes away from the peaceful, natural scene below and turned back to Minerva, who had just remained seated.

"Hermione," Minerva began when Hermione stopped. "I am not an intrusive person, and I won't ask for you to share anything you don't wish to, but I feel like there's more to the story than you're telling me. I am the first who knows, you say."

"Indeed, you are," Hermione said and nodded calmly, then sighed. "Ron's the father. We… I didn't mean for it to happen really, but it still did, and now I am having a child again, and I just don't know what to do. Well, I've got no intention of getting back together with him no matter what happens –– that is what I do know."

"I agree that makes the situation you're in difficult," Minerva admitted.

"Incredibly so. I am so lost on what to do; I've occasionally wondered if it wouldn't be better for everyone to just never have this baby," she muttered, then carefully raised her head to look at Minerva again. If Minerva was shocked in any way, she didn't show it.

Their eyes locked once more.

Silence overtook for a moment.

"Hermione… Whether or not you have this child is your, and I would say Mr. Weasley's, decision only. There's a plethora of options, and you'll have to weigh them all very carefully." Then Minerva's voice changed to a far softer and fragile tone –– one that was very uncharacteristic for her and one which Hermione hadn't heard before. "I can, however, say that although an abortion may seem like it is the solution that makes all undone, it isn't quite as easy at all. I've regretted that decision myself, very much."


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

A bat of an eye was enough for Minerva McGonagall's words to penetrate, but Hermione didn't have words. She didn't know what to say at all.

Minerva knew that she couldn't just leave it at that after an admission that had obviously surprised, if not slightly shocked, the other Gryffindor a great deal. She had not spoken of the matter in decades, and she hadn't to many to begin with either. She hadn't at all shared it unconsciously with Hermione, though. She knew that she had no right to influence Hermione's personal decision, but she felt that it was of importance Hermione knew what she did, too, since she knew from her own experience that what the confused younger woman believed to be a way to undo what had happened was really a lot more than just that in more ways than anyone who hadn't been there could ever possibly imagine. Minerva was aware that Hermione and she were very similar in a great many ways, and that was most likely part of the reason why she felt she could share it with her right then.

"I was unexpectedly with child, too, once," she began, "but I didn't have it. At first, I was glad that I didn't, really, but that changed as time passed. I don't ponder about it anymore as much as I used to, but occasionally, I still wonder how life could have been like, had I decided otherwise."

Hermione could tell that it hurt Minerva McGonagall still a great deal to talk about what had gone on so many years prior, that it was a decision that really had haunted her. She could tell from how emotion swam in those deep green eyes that she had somehow always associated with strength in every possible interpretation.

Uncertainty.

Confusion.

"I met someone the summer I left Hogwarts. I had just gotten my first job, at the Ministry of Magic, in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He was the son of a farmer, a Muggle. He was very easy to talk to, though. It all happened fast, but… he made me laugh, and I felt comfortable with him. He was a handsome and clever boy, and he adored me… like I adored him. He proposed, and I happily accepted. At least, at first I did."

Minerva's words trailed off, and Hermione could see how green eyes glazed over with the still-painful memory. She reached for the older woman's hand and squeezed gently, earning herself a small smile from her former professor, despite the fact that Minerva kept her gaze straight ahead, looking without really seeing whatever was in line of sight. "What happened?" Hermione whispered.

"I recall the day very well, and I doubt that I'll ever manage to forget. My childhood definitely influenced my decision. My father was a Presbyterian Minister, my mother a witch. He never knew until I was born and showed clear signs of the magic my mother had tried to hide from him for so long, and she was forced to tell him the truth about herself and me and any other children that would come from their marriage. I can imagine that Father was at least a little shocked, but the marriage remained somehow intact. We didn't talk about it much. Mother only spoke seldomly about it, and Father didn't at all. However, though I know nothing of their marriage before that point, I reckon it broke something. Mother always abided by the Statute of Secrecy. I know that both Father and she, especially she, were really quite unhappy.

"I was excited to share the news with them and my brothers, but I just couldn't. I recall how I walked in to find Mother had obviously been weeping. She tried to act like nothing at all had happened as she greeted me and continued to peel potatoes, but I always knew. My father was slumped before the television without really paying attention. That was what always happened when they had argued, and they argued a great deal. I recall going into my bedroom and beginning to ponder. I returned the ring the next morning, and that was the last time I saw him. I was afraid that my marriage with Dougal could be like that as well. I moved to London a few days later. I couldn't take being confronted with it any longer."

"I'm so sorry," Hermione whispered. She didn't know what else to say to it. She knew from experience the heartache that came with a failing marriage, but her own mother and father had always been happy together, as far as she knew, and she couldn't fathom what it must have been like for Minerva to grow up with such unhappiness, and that within her home. She thought of her own children then, of Hugo and Rose. If not only for Minerva's comfort, then certainly her own, she held the other woman's hand into hers a little bit tighter.

"It has been a long time since," Minerva spoke as she looked at their hands into her lap and took a breath to go on. "I realized I was with child just two weeks later. I had the most terrible morning sickness. I thought of being a single mother at first –– having it, raising it on my own –– but I hadn't turned even eighteen years old yet, and I wasn't certain that I could offer a child what it needed yet. I, however, was certain that I couldn't carry it and give birth to it to let it be raised by other people. So I chose the other option…" Minerva shakily reached up to wipe at the tears that started to pool in the corners of her eyes. "I still don't know if it was the right decision, any of it. I regret never having been a mother."

"You would have made a great one," Hermione whispered upon feeling Minerva's regret and sadness wash over her.

"Possibly, but I'll never know now." Minerva finally lifted her gaze and made eye contact again. "I didn't at first, but I often wonder how life might have been as a mother. I might not have been embittered then."

"You're not embittered."

Minerva decided not to answer that. She gave a small smile and gently dislodged her hand from Hermione's to reach for her now-tepid cup of tea. Hermione immediately felt the loss of the other woman's warm hand encasing hers –– she only fully appreciated the comfort the gentle touch had offered her as well as she could no longer feel it. She tried not to let it show, though, and reached for her own cup of tea. She sipped from it, then held the cup in her lap and leaned back. "I just don't know what to do," she admitted. "I do know that I can't keep my job at the Ministry if I decide to have this child. The stress has been a challenge to deal with for years now."

Minerva nodded as she set her cup down. "You can always opt for a less stressful job no matter what you decide to do, Hermione."

The younger Gryffindor sighed. "I'm thirty-nine."

"Age also means experience. You have achieved a great deal at the Ministry since you started to work there, and I am certain that that will not be disregarded should you go look for another position somewhere else."

Hazel connected with teal once more, and it struck Hermione then how very open and even tender the ex-Headmistress' gaze was. She had never seen Minerva McGonagall that way, or if so, she didn't recall it, and she was certain she would have had that been the case. She forgot what she had wanted to say and had to revisit her thoughts to find words. "That I'm with child won't be just disregarded either, I am afraid. Even if I managed to find myself an agreeable job… "

"What if it doesn't have to be as hard as you believe it all to be?" Minerva questioned when Hermione's words trailed off and she still hadn't continued several moments later. "Actually, I may have a solution if that's what you're worried about. The headmaster may have rather."

"I'm not sure I follow."

Minerva didn't answer but heaved herself upright instead and leaning heavily upon her cane, slowly walked to her desk. Hermione's eyebrows knitted together as Minerva took a quill and a piece of papyrus. She dipped her quill into the pot of ink on her desk, then began to write –– hastily so. She did not ask. She would be told soon, she assumed.

She watched when her former professor dropped her gray quill and folded the piece of papyrus, then walked to the unlit hearth and nearly automatically reached for the pot on the mantelpiece in which Hermione knew she kept Floo Powder. She caught sight of the silver and glittery powder before the hearth erupted in green, non-burning flames.

Minerva faced her when the flames and message disappeared. "I'll let him tell you himself."


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Hermione couldn't inquire any further right then, given the headmaster himself appeared within green flames seemingly seconds after Minerva's scribbled message. However, she knew it must have been several minutes. When the small Ravenclaw wizard within the fireplace spun no longer, he stepped from it and waved his wand to make the soot on his midnight blue robes disappear.

"Filius. I am grateful that you have managed to make time so soon to join us."

Filius smiled quite fleetingly in response and nodded at Minerva then Hermione. "Minerva," he greeted. "Mrs. Weasley –– err, Miss Granger. I apologize."

"No worries. That's alright," Hermione Granger reassured him. She smiled at the mistake, just slightly. It was a mistake that she had heard many make already; it wouldn't be a first at all. She didn't get very upset about it anymore –– not anymore now. "Good afternoon, Professor Flitwick," she greeted her former Charms professor kindly.

"Please, Filius," Minerva said and made a gesture to indicate he should take a seat.

The Headmaster smiled again, then made his way to where both Gryffindors were seated. Easily levitating himself after several years of practice of magically coping with his lack in height, he sat on the red fluffy couch beside Minerva and looked at her curiously. It was obvious enough that what Minerva had written to him hadn't said much.

"I may have a solution for you both," Minerva stated, looking from Filius to Hermione. She addressed her when she spoke the next time. "Hogwarts' Professor of Transfiguration, Professor Hodgins, decided to retire. The Headmaster hasn't had a lot of luck so far in his tries to replace him, even though we're nearing the end of the summer holidays, and steadily. From what I've understood, the Ministry hasn't offered you a great deal of job satisfaction or solitude of late. I thought that you might like to listen to what the Headmaster has to offer to you as a professor here. I believe it fits with your aspirations."

It began to dawn on both Hermione and Filius why Minerva had arranged an unexpected meeting, but neither of them seemed to be able to speak. Hermione was most shocked undoubtedly. She opened her mouth to speak several times, to deny everything that might have lead Minerva to believe she could possibly be suitable for the job no matter how often she had thought of being a teacher as a little girl and even teenager and had considered the positive feelings she would have at sharing a little knowledge with still-developing younger witches or wizards. "I…" she began.

"We've been so terribly unlucky," Filius Flitwick squeaked as he conjured a particularly ugly flowery cup from thin air. The tiny Headmaster raised it to his lips and took a sip before he spoke again. "History only ever does repeat itself… Minerva continued to teach for most of her time as a Headmistress and then only got to hire Professor Hodgins in 2013, when we had no hope of finding someone any longer. We all knew he wouldn't stay for long, though. We all knew the solution was temporary at the very best. Since Transfiguration is so dangerous to practice and especially teach, it is very hard to get suitable and reliable candidates for the job. I have no doubt of your capabilities as a professor should you like to try it, though. It would be rather wonderful."

"I'm overwhelmed… This is a bit unexpected, as I didn't come to Hogwarts with this intention," she said, and with that she eyed the elder woman pointedly but just not quite long enough for anyone to notice. Minerva didn't miss this. Green eyes connected with hazel and challenged them. What did she have to lose now? Minerva's eyes spoke great volumes when she let it show, Hermione figured.

"You would have a great deal of freedom of course," Filius added. He appeared very excited at the thought of at last being able to fill the position and at the thought of Hermione being the one to do so. "You do not have to remain at Hogwarts after classes if you rather don't. Most professors do not consider 200 Galleons a week as little, but I'll happily consider the options with you if it dissatisfies you and if that should be the cause of any doubt for you to accept this offer."

"I'm… Uhh…" Hermione uttered. "It does seem like a really great opportunity. I would like a little time to really consider everything and decide, though."


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"I will be happy to see you join our staff, should you decide to take the position, Hermione." Filius squeezed then patted the Gryffindor's hand one last time before he threw the glittery silver powder he had just gathered in his other hand in the unlit fireplace, called 'Headmaster's Office' as his destination, then stepped into the green flames, whirled for a few seconds in them and disappeared.

Hermione continued to watch until the flames died away at last, then sighed and averted her gaze, leaning back heavily against the spotless wooden mantelpiece. Green eyes met hers directly. "You feel quite similarly, I reckon?" Hermione voiced. She herself didn't seem as convinced at all, though.

"I do," Minerva admitted.

Hermione's eyes began to fill with tears once more at the indecision in her mind and heart. She closed her eyes, and Minerva's words echoed inside her head. Whereas the timing was all but ideal for this child, and whereas a termination seemed a valid alternative, Hermione had felt that, prior to seeing Minerva even, it wasn't a decision that she thought she could live with. She realized she had already made her decision before she had spoken with Minerva; her former professor had only aided her in seeing it.

She didn't know how to raise a baby at this stage in life and in her current circumstances, though. Rose was nearly thirteen already, and Hugo would go to Hogwarts that September, too. She hadn't had small children in a while and was a bit nervous at the thought, much like when she had first become a mother. What if she didn't know exactly how to do it anymore? Hermione Granger sighed once more and dropped her heavy head in her hands, then lowered them after a rather long moment. She felt –– and was certain that she looked –– exhausted. Upon hearing the bell towers chime, Hermione was slightly surprised at the length of her stay at Hogwarts –– a fact which didn't escape Minerva's notice, despite the brevity with which it had been discernible from her behavior. She broke the silence, "I am afraid that I really should be going." With that, she pushed herself away from the mantelpiece she had been leaning against. "I'm so not up for my mother's questions, though," she continued. "She always just seems to know when something is the matter, and she's been suspicious lately already. I'm not ready to talk about it with her, tonight."

"You could stay here at Hogwarts, of course," Minerva suggested. She wasn't hopeful that Hermione would accept at all, and the way in which she formulated her offer and the tone of her voice when she did reflected this. However, it was a possibility that she felt she needed to inform Hermione of just in case.

"I couldn't, I'm afraid," Hermione spoke. "I do have to work tomorrow, and it was hard enough to leave earlier already today. I don't wish to know how many owls from the Ministry undoubtedly await my return when I get home…"

"You could Apparate from here to go to the Ministry come morn, Hermione. If not, I am certain that regardless of how many owls await you and what nonsense questions the letters they carry do or don't include, you won't go to bed until you've read and answered everything, and we both know you deserve the bit of rest that you could get tonight. Play a game of chess with me over a cup of tea instead."

"Well, what can I say?" It would be nice to for once let the owls be, and Minerva was right: she could use the rest. She had truly forgotten just how exhausted you could feel the first few weeks when you expected. Also, she swore she had seen a little flicker of hope in Minerva's eyes when she suggested for Hermione to stay. She didn't doubt that Minerva must get lonely often no longer being Hogwarts' esteemed Headmistress. "Alright," she agreed after a long moment of thought and nodded her consent. "I should let my mum know that I won't sleep at home tonight, though. No matter how old I get, she still gets very worried."

"Of course," Minerva said, for it sounded acceptable. She was certain that it would do Hermione good not to have to worry about work tonight anymore, or about the questions her mother might ask. It would do her good as well to have Hermione for company for the night, she realized and admitted to herself.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Once Hermione had called and told her mother not to worry or wait up for her since she couldn't come home due to a report that had to be finished, both Minerva and she had sat down on opposite couches to play the suggested chess game, the board stretched between them on the low table, Minerva having offered Hermione the white chess pieces while she took the charcoal colored ones. Several turns had been played already, but only a handful of words had been spoken between them. Pieces moved forward in quiescence, threatened and sometimes took other-colored ones. As they did, both women were mulling over their own thoughts for the time being.

Minerva's thoughts were upon how Hermione Granger was a perfect fit for the job of Transfiguration professor. She had denied a great many candidates herself in her time when she didn't feel the Hogwarts pupils would be in capable hands. She would never need worry about that at all with Hermione as the Transfiguration teacher. Minerva McGonagall felt a rather vague yet discernible sort of hope as well at the thought of her filling the position and possibly residing at Hogwarts. If so, the former Hogwarts headmistress would surely get to see a lot more of Hermione's children, for instance when there were no classes with Christmas and Easter and in the summer when it was Hermione's turn to take them. If Minerva had heard all correctly, this was Ronald's week, and the next would be Hermione's again –– and it would be September first that Sunday, already. Hermione wouldn't let the Headmaster wait for long, she knew, given the fact that September first was, indeed, coming quite steadily closer. Hermione was a very considerate witch, and she wouldn't let Filius wait once she knew what her decision was going to be, and she had a good feeling that Hermione would like to prepare herself for her new job from September on in the setting itself, the castle.

Hermione, then, mulled over the reason why she had come to Hogwarts, to Minerva, for advice to begin with, over Filius' job offer… and how, if she did decide to become a teacher at Hogwarts, it might just change her life a great deal for the better. It had the possibility to do so, for sure. Initially, it had been a question of whether or not to have the child that was developing in her womb right now, but now, it had gotten a whole lot more intricate. Hermione had to admit that a job at Hogwarts sounded more than nice. She would be very close to Rose and Hugo there, and she would be less pressured than she was at the Ministry of Magic currently. She liked the idea of more freedom at work a great deal, and it came in more ways than one as well. If she did take the job, Hermione would have a place of her own at Hogwarts castle, too, which would allow her to leave the parental house in West Sussex. She loved her mother and father a great deal, but she needed her privacy as well. Maybe that wasn't so weird since she would be forty in September, though.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger looked after the children when she needed to work late, much like Molly when the children were with Ron, and both Rose and Hugo loved being with their Papaw and Mamaw, but she really missed her children. She couldn't actually remember the last time that she herself had been able to tuck them in on a week day. That triggered a question. "Minerva," she spoke. "What when I have the children?"

Minerva quietly lowered her tumbler of pumpkin juice, too, eyeing Hermione over the rim of her very thin, squared eyeglasses, visibly confused. She quirked her left eyebrow momentarily. "I am not entirely sure I see what it is you're worried about."

"Well, if I take up the job –– and then I stress 'if' –– where would Rose and Hugo stay in the holidays? If I'm not mistaken, most of the teachers stay at Hogwarts then."

Minerva nodded. She understood her former pupil's question now. "That's correct," she answered. "I suppose your children would stay here at Hogwarts with you if you, too, wish to stay. These rooms would be yours, should you decide to accept the Headmaster's offer."

Hermione looked genuinely shocked. "I can't just kick you from your rooms! Where would you stay if I moved here?" she wondered as she remembered her Nana and how she hadn't lived longer than half a year after moving into a rest home. Hermione suspected that the fact that her grandpa had died a little while before might have a great deal to do with her death, though. After all, they had been a couple since their early twenties and never known anything, or anyone, else. She then wondered to herself if Minerva McGonagall had ever known any love, and it struck her how very little she actually knew about the woman opposite her.

"I am sure that we'll find a solution that both of us can be happy with. I'm not sure if you know how large these rooms in fact are and how much they can be enlarged still with a bit of magic."

"Professor…" Hermione began, lost for words. "I can't just invade your privacy that way. Plus, what when I have the children? It'll be very busy. They can be very exhausting."

"Aren't all children, though?" Minerva asked. She smiled very weakly. "While I never had children myself, I've lived at Hogwarts for most of my adult life, and I was a teacher, for more than half a century. I honestly wouldn't a bit of… liveliness in my old days."

When Hermione saw what she thought was a flicker of hope in those teal eyes, she was only more inclined to take the job at Hogwarts.


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

After two games of chess, Minerva having won the first and Hermione the second, the Gryffindor, witches had, unsurprisingly, delved into the subject of Transfiguration and its latest findings. Certain renewing articles that had been published in _Transfiguration Today_ –– which both women had been subscribed to for many years –– over the course of the past few months had been mentioned and discussed, and all too soon was it that they had entirely forgotten about the time, as we do so often when in good company, until the bell towers had chimed eleven times and they had looked at each other, quite surprised at how much time had indeed managed to fly by, so easily.

Minerva had pointed her wand at their tumblers and the jug of pumpkin juice to banish them to the kitchen below before, very slowly and rather uneasily, getting up, muttering something unintelligible while holding her hand up to keep Hermione at a distance when she offered to help. Hermione thought it could have been "I'm fine. I don't need help".

At eighty-four, Minerva McGonagall wasn't as agile as she had been, especially after having taken four Stunners so close to her heart in Hermione's fifth year… and the wars she had been in, especially the Battle of Hogwarts in 1998. Still, she was very set on independence.

She then had wandlessly and nonverbally summoned her cane from beside the door, leaving Hermione to suspect she mainly used it on the rare occasions she actually left her quarters, before turning back to the younger witch who stood beside her, leaning in to leave a small but warm kiss on her cheek, before saying good night.

Hermione had felt the urge to lean in more and hug her former professor, as a way to show her gratitude for the support the elder Gryffindor had given her when Hermione had needed it most and had felt that there was no one else to go to with her worries, when she felt words couldn't capture it enough in that moment. She hadn't wanted to invade the privacy of her former professor, though, by initiating an embrace that most likely wouldn't have been warranted. Thus, accepting Minerva's kiss on the cheek, she had returned the gesture and leaned in herself to touch a kiss to Minerva's cheek.

Minerva had pointed her wand at the red couch Hermione had previously occupied and had transfigured it in a nice and comfortable-looking double bed, prior to informing her of where she would be if her former charge needed anything at all. After ensuring Hermione was fine and had all she needed, Minerva McGonagall had wished her good night once more and disappeared through the door to the hallways to go to her bedroom and sleep.

Hermione had sat on the edge of the bed for a little while, pondering about how lonely Minerva must be, about the teaching position that she had been offered, about everything, before transfiguring her robes in a comfortable and roomy nightdress and conjuring an alarm clock, setting it at six before leaving at upon the table beside the bed. A clock wasn't usually necessary for her to wake up, though, given the fact she usually did a couple of minutes to six anyway, her body accustomed to her working schedule. Hermione Granger was a light sleeper in general, too –– what with two children, of which her first had been a crybaby on top of everything? She didn't know what she would do if the one she was carrying was going to be a crybaby as well. She hadn't laid in bed any longer than a few minutes before already falling asleep, giving in to the exhaustion she felt, her brain only continuing to mull over everything further in her subconscious.

She hadn't been asleep for long when mocha colored eyes opened to the still-dark rooms of Minerva McGonagall at Hogwarts. It had taken a moment for Hermione to realize where she was again at first, the sleep, although the brevity of it to put it mildly, making her feel as if a bunch of Nargles were whizzing about inside her head.

She sighed as she sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes with the palm of her hand while pushing herself upright with the other. She had to go to the bathroom, very urgently. Even though she had barely had any side-effects while her pregnancies lasted aside from the occasional morning sickness with Rose and Hugo, she had had to run to the bathroom much more often then, both during the day and at night as well, and this pregnancy did not seem to be different, so far.

Taking a small step to the left, Hermione accidentally stubbed her toe against what she knew to be one of the many book closets in Minerva's sitting room. "Ouch!" she hissed in the silence of the night, thoughtful not to be too loud and possibly wake her former professor, who was undoubtedly soundly asleep behind one of the doors past the hallway door. Summoning her wand wandlessly and nonverbally with a long-mastered spell, Hermione lit the tip of her wand and concluded that a dark wooden book closet filled with seemingly very old very thick books, indeed, was the reason her pinky toe would be black and blue come morn. She truly wished she was a bit better at Healing and wondered if maybe evening classes were an option. It would always be very useful with two children who loved to climb in trees and such. It would have helped them a great deal in the past already, too, like when little Rose had fallen from a climbing structure at the park at the age of four, for instance. She still had a scar of her stitches on her left inner knee. If she did decide to go follow evening classes, though, she would see her children less than she did already. Guilt washed over her at the thought. What was she thinking giving birth to another child at forty when the two she had didn't get the attention they deserved from her to begin with? Again, Hermione thought about Minerva's suggestion and how perfect it seemed for the situation at hand, even if it meant a great deal of changes to get there at first. Hermione was willing to do what it took, though.

She sighed while making her way through the sitting room and to the door Minerva had indicated earlier for if Hermione needed anything, hoping the bathroom would be hidden somewhere beyond it as well. She stopped when she reached the door. It felt like she was invading Minerva's privacy, but she really did have to go to the bathroom urgently… That was why she had woken to begin with after all. She bit her lip as she laid her hand upon the handle and waited a few seconds before finally shaking her head, willing the conflicts tumbling in it away and pushing down on the handle, slipping through the small opening and into unknown territory, in search of the bathroom to relieve her bladder.


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

As Hermione slipped through the opening quietly, enlightening what lay beyond with her wand, the Gryffindor found herself in a small hallway. Two identical doors rose up before her, and on the right she saw another, as she cast the light of her wand upon it. She bit down on her bottom lip, no idea which door would be most likely to lead to the bathroom. After a moment of quiet pondering, she chose the door furthest right and lightly padded over to it, aware that Minerva was soundly asleep behind one of these doors and not wanting to wake her.

Hermione inhaled deeply, letting her hand fall on the doorknob and turning it as quietly as possible, revealing a rather large bathroom. The floor was made of small and delicate beige tiles, the walls painted a light blue. She was glad that she had found the right door right away. Mocha eyes widened as she set foot into the room hesitantly and she saw it fully. She had never seen such a luxurious bathroom… in her entire life. A shiny white bathtub easily suitable for two stood against the wall ahead and was decorated by candles. Hermione wondered if Minerva ever actually used those. The toilet, shiny white as well, stood against the right wall and right beside it, pushed into the corner, a large dark wooden bathroom closet with several drawers in which she suspected lay towels and other, typical, bathroom necessities. There were big rectangular sinks that fit with the rest of the bathroom. Hermione's eyebrow quirked as she wondered why the older woman needed two sinks and if maybe Minerva had had lovers here when she was younger. Again, she realized how little she knew about this woman.

A glance upon the oval mirror above the sinks was enough for Hermione to believe it to be antique. She thought about her less than expensive and rather tiny mirror at the house she and Ron had shared. She shook her head once more. Whereas keen on luxury of many kinds, Ron had always had a tendency to use their money on those things that weren't quite necessary, like a television that was larger than Hermione had ever seen, while he didn't care much for things that Hermione thought necessary, like a mirror for the bathroom, for instance.

As Hermione left the bathroom and made to make her way back to the double bed in Minerva's sitting room, she could hear a soft sound beyond the first door she passed on the way back. The Gryffindor's forehead creased; she waited. She heard the sound again. Curiosity overtaking, she reached for the doorknob. Her heart beat in her throat. She really shouldn't get in Minerva's personal space any more than she had already… but her curiosity took the better of her, and she gently turned the doorknob, thoughtfully lowering her lit wand and peeking into the room she soon discovered was indeed Minerva's bedroom. Her eyes fell upon the queen-sized bed on the right, the fetal-position figure of Minerva McGonagall in it with the covers covering the woman barely.

She lay with her back to the door, Hermione saw. Minerva's graying hair was unbound and spread over the pillow beside her. She lay mostly on one side, as if she waited for a lover to return to her bed. Mocha eyes momentarily strayed, fell upon the window on the wall ahead and the illuminating moon that was visible anyway through the thin, soft curtain. It undoubtedly offered the other Gryffindor woman a breath-taking view upon the grounds. Her musing were interrupted, then, when she heard the sound that had made her peek in to begin with once more. Hermione cast her gaze aside just in time to witness Minerva's hand jerk to her hip and fall back down beside her. She was in a lot of pain, it seemed.

Hermione wished that there was anything at all that she could do to help the older woman, but she knew that she couldn't and that Minerva wouldn't let her even if she could. When she couldn't bear to hear the sounds of pain and watch Minerva's hand jerk to her hip every time anymore, she stepped from the room and closed the door behind her.

She then resumed her way back to her bed to get a bit more sleep, given the fact that she had to get up at six for work. As she stood by the doorway that lead back to the sitting room, however, she cast a quick glance over her shoulder to the last door and debated for a moment within herself. She knew that she had intruded on Minerva's personal space enough already, but her curiosity was, once again, stronger. She bit down on her lower lip and turned back to face the door she hadn't opened yet. She would just glance into it quickly and leave… After all, if these were to be Hermione's rooms, too, as Minerva had suggested…

She reached for the doorknob slowly. The light of her wand shone inside the room as the door creaked open and revealed a bedroom that was very like Minerva's, with touches of the same colors and rather similar furniture as well. One glance upon the bed told her that it was not in use, though. It looked as if no one had ever had a night of sleep in it before. Hermione frowned. Why had Minerva transfigured the couch for her to sleep more comfortable when there was actually a spare bedroom right there? Maybe this one was reserved for someone, she thought. She wasn't very mistaken.

She felt very much like an intruder at that point, though, and pulled the door closed, making her way back to the sitting room and the transfigured bed.

As she did so, she failed to notice how another door materialized on the left of the hallway…


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Minerva McGonagall, former Headmistress of Hogwarts, sighed with relief as, at last, she managed to turn off the alarm that had begun to sound through her rooms several minutes prior. She did not know how, by Merlin, Hermione had managed to sleep through it when she herself had been woken in the next room. When the noise had continued to go on after several seconds and Minerva had lost all hope for Hermione or anyone else to turn off the alarm, she, herself, had risen and summoned her cane and wand before going into the sitting room to see where exactly the hellish sound was coming from. She had located the clock very soon and had walked over to it –– quite uneasily, since she was stiff in the mornings after having laid for hours in nearly the same position –– first doing an effort to make it stop on her own, without magic, before eventually still using a Silencing Charm.

She had been a tad surprised herself upon seeing the time indicated by Hermione's conjured clock. Everyone who knew anything about Minerva McGonagall knew that she was a very early riser. Without alarm, she had woken at five-thirty every single day since many decades already, given the fact that she had never needed much sleep –– not even when she had been a teenager once upon a time either. Today had been the very first day in over half a century that Minerva McGonagall had stayed in bed past five-thirty.

As she quietly set the noise-maker down on the table once again, Minerva looked over at the witch in the bed, sprawled and, seemingly, still peacefully asleep even after the alarm had resounded beside her so very loudly. She must have been absolutely exhausted. Minerva really hated having to wake her, but she couldn't let her continue to sleep and arrive at work late after convincing her to stay the night prior, especially.

Sighing, Minerva McGonagall reached over to take a hold of Hermione's foot dangling from the edge of the bed, no longer covered by the sheet, and shook it gently. "Hermione? Your alarm's gone off." When the younger witch made no indication of having heard Minerva's words through her sleepy haze, she shook a bit harder and said a tad louder, "Hermione. Your alarm's gone off; it is time to wake up."

At last, the younger Gryffindor witch began to stir a bit, eyelids fluttering then opening. She looked slightly confused at first, undoubtedly at the unfamiliar surroundings in which she had woken. "Good…" she began when her own words got interrupted by a yawn, her hand going to her mouth to try and hide it as best she could, "morning," she finished before slowly moving to sit up in bed.

A small smile involuntarily lifted the corners of Minerva McGonagall's mouth. Hermione's eyes were still filled with sleep at the outer corners, she noted, as mocha eyes adjusted to the dim light that still spilled in even through the curtains and a hand reached up to rub her eyes as she barely managed to stifle a second yawn. "Good morning, Hermione. I'm sorry to wake you," she apologized, "but I thought you would like to know that your alarm's gone off."

Hermione frowned at that, and her gaze flashed to the dial of the clock only to find herself utterly shocked –– ten past six. "It didn't wake me? Or, didn't it go off?" she wondered.

"Oh, it did," Minerva assured with a little smile on her lips.

Hermione's eyes widened; realization hit. "I'm so sorry!"

"Please, don't be," Minerva waved off with a hand gesture that fit her words. "I am awake at five-thirty every day." With this, she failed to mention how today had been an exception to that rule. "How about… we get dressed first and foremost and then we ask the House-Elves for something to eat? How does that sound?"

"That sounds like a plan."

"All right," Minerva responded. "Then I will go and get dressed, and I will ask a House-Elf to send something up for two when I am back."

Before Hermione had a chance to voice her thanks once more, Minerva McGonagall had turned away already and had managed a few steps in the direction of the door to the hallway. Minerva was leaning rather heavily on her cane, Hermione saw, and a bout of genuine worry creased her otherwise-smooth forehead. She wondered if the older witch was in any pain at all right now, and, if so, if it was in the degree she had witnessed last night when Minerva was asleep. As Minerva made her way back to her bedroom to get dressed, her long graying hair spilled down her back. Hermione wondered why she rarely left her hair loose. It hadn't thinned like with most women of her age, and it was still shiny and smooth. Hermione didn't see any reason at all for her to still pin every wisp of her hair up in her customary bun. After all, she didn't teach anymore. Habit?

Sighing, she slipped from the bed and summoned her wand into her hand to first re-transfigure Minerva's red couch then change her attired into something a bit more work-appropriate: a dark blue lady suit, as she usually wore to go to the Ministry of Magic.

She felt her bushy hair, made a face. She would really need to fix that prior to leaving for work. There was no way that she could leave with what was undoubtedly a resemblance of a bird's nest. Her hair had always had a tendency to work itself in knots when she was asleep, even when she was still a little girl. Again, the Gryffindor's thoughts trailed off to the spare bedroom she had discovered the night prior. She was very hard-pressed to ask Minerva about it. Then, however, she would have to admit to having invaded Minerva's privacy…


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

When the door fell shut after her and the former Headmistress glanced up, she didn't fail to notice how there was an… addition to the hallway that had most definitely not been there when she went to bed the night prior. Whether it had been there earlier already or not, she wasn't quite certain –– after all, she hadn't paid a whole lot of attention to the architecture of her hallway when she had passed through to her own sitting room to turn off the horrible noise of Hermione's alarm. Two doors seemed to have just appeared overnight or something.

While the Castle contained a lot of magic that emanated at all times from the foundations –– which for instance caused the stairs to move on their own accord, or so it would seem –– Hogwarts didn't perform _this_ sort of magic on a daily basis… at all. Then again, it had always been kind to Minerva even when she was younger, and however unexpected the materialization of those two identical wooden doors, she had an idea as to what she would find when she slowly reached for the doorknob of the door that was nearest. She didn't get disappointed when she was met with a large master bedroom very similar to her own. A weak smile came upon thin lips, and she didn't bother to close the door before she moved on to the second one.

The door felt her nearness, or so it seemed, because it opened before Minerva on its own to reveal what appeared to be a combination of an office and a living room. A wall was lined with a bookcase that was partially filled and contained a variety of books in both binding and volume. She noticed a few board games, too –– both Muggle and magical. Right in the middle of the room stood a set of comfortable-looking red couches like her own, surrounding a low but apparently sturdy table.

Hogwarts had done its best in many ways, Minerva thought when she discovered there were another two rooms to be accessed from the office and sitting room and saw what they contained. She had had a look at only one of them, but that had been enough already. It had contained a small bed with soft pink covers and a night table beside it, a wardrobe that matched the very dark wood of the bed and the night table and a tall unused bookcase pushed against the opposite wall. It held a cornered desk set so that the natural light that came from the only window always fell upon it. Minerva knew that the other room wouldn't contain anything else than a similar set of furniture, maybe arranged differently and possibly in boyish colors instead –– a color that Hugo would like. Minerva McGonagall wondered if Hermione, who was very perceptive, had noticed the additions herself, too.

Hermione had been one of the very few guests Minerva McGonagall had received over the past few years. She felt a bout of what was close to guilt for having had her stay. She must have looked lonely. In truth, she often felt that way. Often enough, she had doubted her decision to retire despite her age. Busy schedules had dominated her life for the most part of it, but now that that was gone, she hardly knew what to do with so very much time on her hands. She had read and reread books, but you could read only so much until you reached a point where you wanted to do something else than that, too.

She stepped from the new rooms and walked to her own. The Castle –– however magical, however mysterious –– never ever would have done anything like creating rooms for her and her children to live in if it hadn't somehow felt Hermione had a strong inclination to accept the position. Whereas Hermione still seemed to doubt, Hogwarts did not and showed that it was more than happy to house both her and her children. The Castle's decision had already been made, and Minerva only hoped Hermione's would follow very soon.

As she pushed her door open, she made her way to her wardrobe. Minerva McGonagall sighed as she ran through her attires. She had worn only black and other dark colors for the past few years. She had kept the clothes she used to wear when she still taught, too, though. She ran her fingers over the shoulder of a mid-green robe. She couldn't wear those any longer; they made her look sickly pale. Despite the fact that one would have guessed black and other dark colors did that, with Minerva they did much less than the robes she used to wear.

With a sigh, she slid her thinnest black robes off of the hanger, laying them on the bed. When she looked up, she caught her reflection in the mirror against the inside of her wardrobe. She eyed herself for a moment before she clasped her hands over her face and sat down on the edge of the bed. While Minerva had never thought herself to be very beautiful, she knew many men had disagreed a great deal when she had been younger, but now… Since she retired, her old age had only begun to show more and more in her appearance lately.

The day she had decided to retire had been the day she had signed the end of her days, she felt, and she had regretted it so much. She hadn't truly lived since that last day of her being the Headmistress of Hogwarts; her body really showed it as well. The lines in her face had only come to the surface more, especially the ones by her eyes. Her teal green eyes also didn't show the same intensity they always had any longer. She wondered if she could have possibly looked older than she did now, and that for a witch.


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

As Minerva McGonagall walked into her sitting room, she looked every bit of the venerable Headmistress that she had been until she had chosen to retire from her post. The fact that she had her gray hair up in its customary bun, her robes not one bit less professional than when she had lead the school, definitely helped Minerva to feel more like the younger woman she had been then.

When she came into the living room, Hermione was seated on the re-transfigured red couch, dressed in a navy lady suit which Minerva assumed she usually wore to go to the Ministry. Hermione's hair was twirled in a loose knot on the back of her neck. When the younger witch looked up at Minerva, there was a crease visible between her eyebrows. Minerva McGonagall had a vague idea as to why Hermione would look at her that way. "I won't fall down just like that without my cane, you know," she said. Her toned held the middle between sarcasm and soft mirth. She halted by the couch. "I'll call for something to eat then, no?" she suggested.

Hermione nodded. "I have about half an hour before I'd like to Apparate. I usually arrive just a tad early to answer owls and internal notes, and I have a feeling that I might need another half an hour to do so today after I had the day off yesterday. I bet that the owls are piled up at my office window."

Minerva nodded. "All right," she said as she slid past the couch on which Hermione sat and moved to sit down on the other one opposite her. Minerva didn't limp anymore, Hermione noted. She wondered if it had to do with the fact that it was only morning or if she had taken a Pain-Relief Potion. She didn't remember seeing a medicine cabinet when she had been in the bathroom, and she wondered if maybe it was hidden elsewhere. She wondered if the older with had ever had the need to hide things from little children's curious eyes and hands. Maybe Minerva had more direct experience with children, too, aside from having been a teacher at Hogwarts.

Hugo, even though eleven already, was a very curious child, and if she were to live there, in Minerva's personal rooms –– that was if she accepted the job –– and the children were there in holidays, maybe it was better that things like that were hidden. Hermione's musings were quite suddenly interrupted by a House-Elf, the same she had seen the day prior. She hadn't heard Minerva call for it.

The House-Elf bowed to Professor McGonagall first, doing a half-turn to Hermione and bowing once more before turning to Minerva again. "Woulds Mistress be needing anything?"

"Something to eat would be very nice, please?" Minerva requested.

At that, the Elf bowed deep before it disappeared with a loud crack. Within thirty seconds after the Elf had disappeared, a tray with a big variety of 'morning food' for two appeared on the low table.

"Tuck in," Minerva said with a small smile as she, herself, reached for a small piece of baguette and jam as she saw Hermione reach for a one of the crescents they had been offered and began to nibble on it. She didn't appear at all interested in what she was eating nor anything else that lay on the tray. Minerva wondered if maybe it was morning sickness that caused this. "What's on your mind, Hermione?" she asked gently.

"Oh," Hermione mouthed. She looked at the older witch rather startled. "I'm fine. I'm just… I've pondered about Filius' and your suggestion to come and teach at Hogwarts. My mind and heart both push me to see the advantages of it all, but I don't know if I would be a good teacher."

The older witch smiled lightly. "I was worried that I wouldn't be, either, at first. However, Albus said that as long as I loved teaching and loved sharing my wisdom with 'young souls' that I would be a great teacher."

"You were."

"So will you be," Minerva spoke. "I'm sure that Mr. Potter wasn't the only one who taught the others when you all had Dumbledore's Army going. You were always incredibly talented, especially at Transfiguration."

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I believe maybe I should discuss it with Ron first, too, and with Rose and Hugo."

"I see why you would like to talk it over with your children first, but I am afraid that I don't see why you would with Ronald. I thought that you two weren't involved into each other's lives all that much anymore since you separated, or did I…?"

"No, you're right," Hermione said. She sighed. "Oh, I don't know what to do. I'm not ready to tell the children about the baby yet, I feel, but since that's what got me here, and since that is a major reason why I would accept, it is like lying to them. I always tell them to be honest with me. What kind of parent would I be to expect complete honesty from them, with everything, when Mummy's not doing the same, in return?"

Minerva McGonagall smiled weakly in sympathy. The conversation fell quiet, then.

The silence was interrupted only when the bell towers chimed six-thirty and Hermione looked up. "Oh, I have to leave," she whispered, then rose. "Otherwise, I'll never manage to answer my owls before my meeting at eight."

"Of course."

As Hermione made to leave, she ensured Minerva that she would be back as soon as she had news about whether or not she would take the position and promised she wouldn't let them wait longer than necessary. With a kiss on the cheek and words of thanks to her former professor for her support, Hermione said goodbye before she left the older witch's rooms.

Hermione Granger had a decision to make.


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

When Hermione got to the Ministry, it was still quiet; most of her colleagues wouldn't arrive for another hour or so. She arrived before the mass of others on most days, if only to answer owls and notes from the evening or night before. With Hermione often being one of the last people who left for the day, she often wondered where everyone managed to find time to send owls to her, often about things that weren't of importance at all.

"Good morning, Hermione!"

Hermione cringed inwardly when she looked up and saw a skinny, balding wizard by the name of Alfred Langley wave. He was in his forties and worked for the Magical Maintenance department. Multiple times a week he would come by her office and beg her for her assistance. It often made her doubt the competences of the people who worked for the Magical Maintenance department in general. The week prior alone, Alfred had come to ask what to do about someone's office that had been turned upside down for no reason at all and about the door to another's office that refused to let anyone in unless they sang for half an hour to please it. It might not have bothered Hermione so much if he was the only one who asked for her help all the time. Unfortunately, though, that was not the case. Many people ran to her for her help, and often Hermione felt like she was too busy with everyone else's issues to work on her own things. That was only one of the reasons why she had to work late most days, in addition to getting to the Ministry early. She knew that she had to learn how to say 'no' more often.

"Morning, Alfred," she greeted, a bit surprised when the older wizard didn't mention any issue he needed her help with.

When she neared the Department for the Regulation and the Control of Magical Creatures, she heard the owl already. The loud screeches were absolutely unbearable when she arrived at her office. With a heavy heart and a deep sigh, Hermione pushed open the door. At once, a herd of Ministry notes began and attacked her from all sides. She only barely managed to wave her wand at them and still them in mid-air before she had them flutter into a pile on her desk.

Then she noted the owls that hovered by her window. She couldn't even see the enchanted sky anymore. Despite hidden beneath the earth, most offices had an enchanted window through which light filtered in and for owls to deliver any non-Ministry mail to Ministry employees. With another sigh, Hermione gently opened the enchanted window and watched as a bunch of owls all but fell into her office. Carefully, she removed the letters from the talons of the exhausted post owls, politely offering them dried jerky from a can she had on her desk before they flew off once again –– Merlin know how long they had been waiting for her! She informed each owl not to wait, and slowly, the noise of screeching owls who just wanted to have their letter delivered diminished with each departing owl until she was at last alone, with two piles of post on her desk that she had to answer first, before she could do basically anything else, like her own job. Hermione no longer did believe this was part of it, and that feeling was only strengthened when she sat down and began to open all the letters.

She wrote her responses for most of the morning, until, at one-fifteen, Alfred Langley burst into her office, soaking wet. "You have to help me!" he screeched. "Susannah's had an angry thunder and rain cloud follow her since she set foot into the office, and no spell anyone's tried will shield her from it, let alone make the cloud disappear!" He looked as if he could burst in tears.

Hermione didn't say anything. She just got up and made a small gesture to Alfred to say she would follow him. She had only just exited her office when a fat wizard with moustache and beard began to run to her from the end of the hallway, bellowing her name in an effort to stop her from going anywhere. "Mrs. Weasley!"

She didn't have the heart to correct him or anyone anymore. She shut her eyes and took a breath; Hermione heard Alfred Langley's hurried voice, Benjamin Carlisle's heavy footfalls and pants. "Stop!" she screamed, then opened her eyes. Everyone halted. She couldn't say if the ever-repetitive nature of her days over the course of the past few years had finally pushed her to the limit or whether the hormones that coursed through her body had anything at all to do with that. "I'm not Miss Fix-It! This is not my job!" She had had enough of it. She waved her wand and effortlessly caught her purse as it soared from her open office before she passed through the hallways, absolutely everyone giving her wide berth.

When Hermione reached Kingsley's office, she was already a lot calmer. However, she hadn't changed her mind and knew she wouldn't anymore either no matter what happened. This was a decision that she knew she wouldn't regret. She announced her presence by a knock on Kingsley's door. She waited for his low baritone to say it was all right to enter.

Kingsley's dark eyes shot up from his owl post to look at her with surprise as she entered the room and took the chair right opposite him and stated without preamble, "I resign."

"Hermione…"

She held up her hand. "Please, don't try to change my mind. My decision's been made. I've made the changes that I told myself I would. However, I would really like to have the kind of job now that allows me to be with the children more, my family... and this isn't it. I'm sorry."

Kingsley Shacklebolt merely nodded, rather astounded.

Hermione's eyes met Kingsley's then, and a shadow of a smile was visible on her lips when she got up again. "It has been a real pleasure, Minister," she said, then extended her hand.

"The pleasure's been mine, Hermione."

The Minister rose and rounded to Hermione's side of the desk before he took her hand and shook it. "Goodbye," Hermione whispered before she leaned in and turned the handshake in a warm embrace. She did enjoy her job, at first. She wasn't the same girl as back then anymore, though. Hermione Granger had become a mother, for instance.

As Hermione walked back to the main entry, it felt as if a heavy burden had somehow been lifted off of her shoulders. She felt lighter than she had in years. She should go to Hogwarts to inform Minerva and the Headmaster of the decision she had made that morning. She had promised not to have them wait very long.

_Hogwarts…_ The thought of the fabled castle brought a smile to her lips. She knew her destination, with determination and deliberation… and with a crack, Hermione left the Ministry behind.


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Minerva McGonagall waved her wand at the tray that had held her and Hermione's first meal of the day to send it back to the kitchens. She sighed with relief as she got up and did not feel any pain as she did. She was glad that she had taken a Pain-Relief Potion that morning, after a rather horrible night pain-wise.

The Gryffindor witch wondered what it would be like to have two children live with her and Hermione, here. She was certain that it would make her days less dull and monotone. However, the thought, it also did remind Minerva of her own limitations. After all, she wasn't Hermione's age anymore and had not been in forty-four years either. Would Hermione's children be understanding of them? Would they compare her to their grandparents or great-grandparents if they still had those?

If Hermione did decide to take the position at Hogwarts and share rooms with her, however, there were some personal items of hers that absolutely needed to be sorted before her guests arrived. Minerva's thoughts drifted off to Hermione and the reluctance that she had shown that morning to go to the Ministry of Magic.

Minerva McGonagall knew for a fact at least some of those more personal items were kept inside her book closets. While Hermione's children were not all that young anymore, it didn't mean they couldn't get curious when they were bored. After all, teenagers were naturally curious.

She sighed as she eyed the many closets that were full of books and other miscellanea. Granted, she had already wanted to sort it for years. She had never really managed to find enough time or desire to do so, though. She would get to her sitting room first now. There were at least a few picture albums from times long ago, with pictures of people whom most alive wouldn't even know. She had kept the albums for many decades already without ever once looking into them. Very often, she told herself she would, but it never did happen for one reason or another.

Teal green eyes inadvertently fell upon the high bookcase in the corner. Calmly, she made her way to it and pulled at the top drawer, in which she knew her journals and other lay. At the top of the old closer drawer lay two voluminous photo albums. These were the ones her mother and father had kept since the beginning of their marriage, and it had pictures of them and their children, Minerva and their two sons. Carefully, she reached for the top one. She quietly blew the dust off the worn leather cover that had gathered on it over the years of neglect. She slowly flipped the cover and saw a picture of her parents on their wedding day. The picture didn't move, but it was obvious that Mr. and Mrs. McGonagall were happy in this. The next black-and-white picture didn't move either. It showed Minerva's mother on a porch swing, her hands upon her swollen belly. This had been taken when she had been close to the end of her pregnancy, with Minerva. Minerva swallowed as she remembered the great many times that Isobel had showed her this picture and told her how very happy she had been when she discovered she was having a baby despite their young age. She closed the album; she wouldn't get anything at all done if she kept looking at the pictures, and she wasn't certain that was a good idea right now. In fact, she felt that it wasn't at all. Minerva's memories weren't all happy ones.

She reached for the other one and sent both of them to the low table with just a small wave of her wand. Another made Minerva's little pile of journals from her days as a pupil at Hogwarts until many years later follow suit.

Minerva had thought that her drawer had already been cleared entirely. However, then she noticed a shimmer of gold, right in the back. The witch's brow furloughed. As she slid a hand far into the drawer, she wondered what by Merlin had managed to wedge itself there in the back of her drawer. She had no idea at all what it might be, until the tips of her long fingers touched a long cylinder glass and felt cool metal. She curled her hand about the object and pulled.

She managed to pull it a bit closer, but then the weathered chain became taunt and kept her from pulling the Time-Turner from the drawer entirely. Without thought, Minerva pulled harder, since maybe her old Time-Turner would come loose like that. She felt it begin to give, at last, and with one final thug the chain unexpectedly broke free.

It happened in a matter of only seconds.

Minerva held the little hourglass so tightly that as the chain finally broke free, the pressure upon the very thin glass shifted and that made it burst apart in innumerable tiny pieces. She felt the shards of glass bite into her skin as the sands slid through her fingers from a puddle in the palm of the witch's hand. She hissed at the intense heat that burned her palm. Within seconds, her fingers fell open and the broken Time-Turner slipped from her hand as a powerful invisible force blew her backwards. She tried to stave her fall as her hands desperately grasped for something to hold onto, but alas. Minerva McGonagall fell back, her head connecting with something solid.

Minerva's albums and diaries all fell heedlessly downwards. Minerva's body was struck by them; long-forgotten pictures lay scattered all across the floor.

Her burnt left hand unknowingly hit the still-rolling remains of Time-Turner as her body stilled, which caused the bottom of the old now-broken mechanism to redirect and roll further, between the many glass shards.

The Time-Turner rocked once, twice… five times before it came to a halt.


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

When the pieces of the Time-Turner came to a halt, it didn't take long for irreversible changes to begin to manifest. Minerva McGonagall remained unconscious, unaware.

She must have been unconscious for a little while when a knock upon the door came at a little before two. Since House-Elves only appeared when called, and most Hogwarts professors arrived only at the very end of summer –– some even September first –– and Filius was in London for most of the day to get the last few things arranged for the beginning of a new Hogwarts school year, no one really noticed Minerva's inactivity.

Hermione, however, did notice. She felt her worry rise even higher when she knocked once more and failed to hear any sound or response from inside still. Hermione's head filled with all kinds of images in which Minerva was hurt. What if Minerva had managed to get hurt since she had left the castle?

Anxiously, she felt the door handle and discovered that the door hadn't been re-locked. "Minerva?" she called once more. "I'm coming in, alright?"

When she heard no answer or any other sound again, she pushed the door open and let her eyes slowly move over the living room. It looked the same as that morning before she had left, with the exception of the tray on the table now no longer being there. She walked further into the retired Headmistress' personal rooms; the door fell shut. Something wasn't quite right, although Hermione couldn't immediately put her finger on what that was. She squinted as she inspected the room a bit more carefully, and that's when she noticed the books that had seemingly been thrown upon the floor carelessly. Hermione got down to her knees to gather the books strewn across the floor and saw as she did an unmoving picture, of a baby with dark hair and rounded cheeks, biting on a toy of sorts while looking up with big, curious eyes. The infant looked familiar, somehow.

With care, she held the photo in her other hand as she flipped the cover of the old 'book' on top that, in fact, was a photo album as she had guessed upon seeing the picture and then considering the thin band of the leather-bound books. When she saw the couple on the very first page, she couldn't deny they looked like a very happy one at that. Hermione briefly wondered if it could be Minerva in her younger years, given the woman looked a great deal like the woman that taught her Transfiguration once upon a time. Maybe the picture she held in her hand was Minerva herself or a younger sister she didn't know about. With care, she slid the picture between the cover of the album and the first page then glanced about the room to see if there were any more pictures that had come free from the pages, the rough handling having assisted the old glue to detach.

The books Hermione had gathered already thudded down on the floor again as she noticed the unconscious body of a middle-aged woman between and under the rest of the books. Without thought, Hermione crawled over. She let her eyes slide over the turned face and took in the woman's familiar appearance. She looked a lot like the woman in the album, give or take some years in age maybe. Gently laying her hand on the woman's cheek, she turned her face to her and saw blood seep from a wound upon her temple as she leaned over her.

The touch appeared to have caused the woman about the same age as her to return to the land of the conscious, eyelids quivering as she struggled a lot to open them. Hermione could tell that the woman looked indeed a lot like Minerva. Was she a family member, maybe, like a sister or niece, who came to visit with memories from the past, the albums? She couldn't say what had gone on. If she was, though, where was Minerva herself? Did she know what had happened?

The woman upon the floor turned her head at last and opened teal green blurry eyes. With effort, she focused her gaze upon the blurry but familiar face of Hermione Granger. "…'Mione?"

When the woman opened green colored eyes, Hermione was shocked to see how much like Minerva's they were. The former Transfiguration professor's green eyes had always had the status of 'trademark'. Who was this woman in Minerva's rooms? Where was Minerva McGonagall? When the woman tried to move from her position on the carpeted floor, Hermione gently stilled her movements and laid a hand against her upper body to do so. "Please remain," she said. "You appear to have hit your head when you fell."

The woman upon the floor of whom Hermione didn't know the name or relation to Minerva groaned. She seemed to walk on the fine line in-between consciousness and darkness much like a cord dancer at a circus walking from the one end to the other one. _Where was the net here to catch her if she fell, though?_ "Fell?" she asked.

"I don't know what happened exactly…" Hermione replied.

With determination, the woman's right hand slid to the carpet, as she laid her other one upon Hermione's and pushed her own body up into a sitting position.

Seeing this and figuring that she couldn't stop her, she helped the woman move, so that she could lean against the tall closet.

She winced once again, and her hand shot to her injured temple instinctively. As she pulled it back and looked at it, the witch saw a smear of dark blood.

"I'm sorry," Hermione began, "but who are you? I don't believe I've ever seen you before. Are you family of hers maybe? Do you have a clue as to where Minerva is?"

The other woman frowned. "I don't have any idea at all what you're talking about; I'm still me. I wonder if you've not hit your head, too," she said, and teal colored eyes had never been so focused in the last few minutes as then. Teal met with very confused light mocha. The two witches eyed each other as if they had never seen one another before, and deep concern laced both of their features.

_Those eyes._

_That voice._

As the truth hit her, Hermione fell back and lifted her hand up to her mouth. "Oh, Merlin…" she whispered as she felt her pocket for her wand and conjured a mirror and handed it to the woman who said that she was Minerva McGonagall, so that she could see herself why it was very hard for Hermione to believe. As she handed the mirror to the woman and sat back, she kept her eyes on her the whole time. _What had happened? This couldn't be true._

As the woman equally silently accepted Hermione's, conjured mirror and looked at her own reflection to see why Hermione didn't recognize her, a gasp came from her. She covered her mouth. She understood at once. This reflection hadn't been hers in nearly fifty years.


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Hermione's eyes never did leave the other woman. After several moments without a word said between both Gryffindor witches, Hermione's mouth opened, but Minerva held up a hand to silence her when she heard her intake of air in order to speak. "I can't remember what happened after you left…"

A myriad of images crossed through Minerva's mind, flashed by so fast that she could barely hold onto them as her intellect worked at top speed. At last, she managed to hold onto one particular image of a small hourglass and a chain. Suddenly, she recalled the feeling of something hot burning into her palm, and when she lifted her right hand up and saw the burns on the inside of her long fingers and her palm. Ugly blisters had appeared already.

When Hermione saw Minerva's burnt hand, she gasped. "Oh, Merlin…"

"I do remember now," Minerva stated as she laid her non-injured hand upon Hermione's knee, to draw Hermione's attention. She held her gaze for just a moment, then cast her own aside. When she did so, her eyes fell upon something that glinted from nearby: tiny pieces of glass and sand. This confirmed her suspicions about what exactly had happened. She drew her gaze back to her visitor. "Hermione," she began, "I had an… accident, with my Time-Turner."

With her hand on Hermione's leg, she pushed off of the floor to sit on her knees by what still did remain of her Time-Turner. She thought it was best left untouched. A Time-Turner, by principle, allowed time-travel to the past, while your being stayed the same. Somehow, though, time didn't appear to have changed while she herself very much had. Hermione hadn't been affected, so how long had she then been unconscious for? When had Hermione arrived? First of all, she needed the answers to at least a couple of questions prior to taking action –– that was if she could take any at all.

"Minerva…" Hermione voiced. She was very confused. She watched on as, with effort, Minerva McGonagall held onto the bookcase and pushed hard off of the floor until she stood. She followed suit at once and reached for the other woman she had a very hard time understanding was indeed her former mentor when she wavered. "You're injured," the younger Gryffindor spoke with concern.

"I'm well aware," Minerva admitted as she dared let go of Hermione at last, when she was certain that she wouldn't need her help anymore to say on her feet. "However, right now, I am afraid that that is the last of my worries, if I'm quite honest."

"That's understandable…" she stated, then frowned when she saw Minerva's intentions and decided to follow on her heels. What was she going to look for in the hallway?

To Minerva, thought, this was an easy way to confirm whether or not her surroundings had returned into the time, too. When she pulled the door open, she noticed there were four more. She pulled the first door open and saw that the room looked exactly as it had earlier that morning. Minerva's heart hammered in her throat as she pushed the next open only to find it exactly the same, too.

Eyes wide, Hermione watched. That door had not been there, that morning, and she was certain about that as well. Where had that fourth door suddenly come from?

Minerva seemed to sense her questions. "Hogwarts Castle has always had the ability to adapt its structure when needed and wanted, from its own volition. It doesn't happen often, and in truth it rarely does happen at all. Therefore, very few people know. The few who do know, believe that it is due to old magic of Godric Gryffindor's, the Founder. If you recall the sword and how it comes to those who are worthy, reveals itself to the true hearted when in great need, maybe it isn't so strange to believe." When Hermione nodded in response, she continued, "These rooms weren't there last night," she said as she indicated the two additions. "However, this morning, there they were. I'll hazard a guess that as a result of the conversation we had, regarding you teaching here, Hogwarts chose to adapt to the possible changes ahead, should you accept the offer."

Hermione Granger couldn't say a word and just eyed the elder woman astounded. She didn't believe this was the time to tell her about her decision, given the fact that in the light of the recent events, it was pushed to the back of her mind and most likely to Minerva's as well. Hermione's head reeled. "What does this all mean?"

"I would say it means the surroundings haven't been affected," she said. She turned back to Hermione, and the brunette had no words for just how penetrating Minerva's eyes were in that moment. People had said that Dumbledore's were, but Minerva's were even more so. "When did you get back to Hogwarts?" she asked.

"About half an hour ago, maybe?" Hermione estimated. "I left the Ministry before two."

Minerva nodded. She pinched the bridge of her nose in hopes to delay or diminish the headache she felt coming on, quite rapidly. Her eyes fell shut as she took that the information in, processing everything. The accident couldn't have happened all too long after Hermione had left for the Ministry, but that meant that she must have been unconscious for at least a few hours then… She bit her lip as she thought, then made her way back to the living room, ignoring the pain she felt in her right ankle. Hermione followed her as she did with still-wide eyes, still dumbfounded.

"Minerva, what…?"

"Elly?"

Within seconds, a small House-Elf with large ears appeared. The way the little Elf's eyes bulged when she saw Minerva said enough; she noticed the change, too, which wasn't hard to miss since it was a drastic one, as well. "Mistress?" she shrieked. "You's becomes younger!"

Minerva was certain that, had the House-Elf not worked for the Hogwarts kitchens since before she had become a professor, she wouldn't have recognized her at all. It also did give Minerva the advantage to be able to tell that Elly's appearance hadn't changed. It was always hard to determine how old a House-Elf was, but Minerva remembered very well how she looked when she was the age she appeared to be at the moment. She breathed a small sigh of relief to herself. "Elly, I had an accident with my Time-Turner. Am I right in assuming that I was the only one who was in the castle after Hermione left, aside from all the House-Elves?"

"Indeeds!" the Elf confirmed with a nod that made her large ears flap.

"Am I right in assuming that nothing at all unusual happened to you or the other Elves, and that I am the only one who was affected by this, whatever this is?"

"Elly's believes that that's rights."

Minerva McGonagall tried to smile as with a small nod, she dismissed the Elf called Elly to further address the issue she knew wouldn't be dismissed so easily.


	18. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

"What do we do?" Hermione whispered as Elly disappeared, still shocked. All had been normal when she left Hogwarts that morning. Minerva McGonagall had still looked her eighty-odd magical years. However, upon her return hours later, Minerva McGonagall had disappeared and had been replaced with a woman several decades younger, not a single line in her face or a gray hair in her ebony locks, who claimed to be her. The way in which she spoke and talked didn't leave any doubt at all that this was, indeed, Minerva, though. Hermione Granger couldn't deny that the woman was her former professor, as hard as it was to believe.

She had never seen magic like this before, but she knew that the chances of reversing it would be very slim anyway. If, indeed, it couldn't be reversed, the Ministry of Magic had to be informed of what had happened.

"First off, we have to determine how old I, or at least my appearance, is right now," Minerva responded. She gently laid her hand on Hermione's one shoulder, and her eyes met with the younger Gryffindor's. Minerva winced and pulled her hand back as, temporarily, she forgot the burns upon her hands and squeezed. She suppressed the urge to look for a balm that would make the pain disappear. Wandlessly, she cast a Cooling Charm to appease at least some discomfort. Right now, these burns weren't her biggest concerns. It would do for now. "How old do you reckon I look?" she asked her former pupil.

Hermione let her eyes slide over Minerva's face, then down to take her appearance in fully. "I would say you look rather my age now, but… Is there any way that allows to determine your physical age, objectively?" she wondered. She didn't have the answer.

Minerva McGonagall bit her lip as she thought. She looked at least several decades younger than she had that morning after her Time-Turner had burst in her hand earlier that day, but she couldn't say what exactly it had set into motion. She shifted her weight to her other leg when she couldn't deny how her ankle pounded with pain any longer, and that's when she realized there was possibly another option. The pain she felt in her right ankle right now was not one that she hadn't felt before. She had felt the exact same pain decades prior after a fall she would always remember, if only for how much her hatred for Peeves had increased as a result… and she had never had much patience if it concerned the annoying poltergeist.

"Maybe," Minerva said, "there is." She kept her eyes on Hermione as she lifted a hand to her collarbone and slid it down a bit and back and forth. Either way, though, she did not feel any scar tissue there anymore, anywhere, from the Stunners that had hit her two decades prior, and the scars had been raised above her skin so much that they could be felt through several layers of clothes. "In 1967, the first Nimbus was released and immediately got a lot of attention from professional Quidditch teams. It didn't take very long for it to emerge among the pupils at Hogwarts as well. I remember that we had a staff meeting the August of 1969 about whether or not to permit them since most Hogwarts pupils couldn't afford them and it would be too unfair for them to compete against what was mostly a mix of Comets and Cleansweeps, and the difference back then was rather significant."

Hermione couldn't help but smile at Minerva's love for Quidditch, and she remembered her competitive spirit when the Gryffindors had played back in the days when she herself was still a pupil.

"While descending the stairs, one afternoon, I slipped and seriously injured my right ankle. It was hard to walk for weeks after, and it was swollen and bruised in excess of a month."

When Minerva sat and calmly crossed one leg over the other and began to unlace her right boot, Hermione was only confused for a moment. If Minerva had been cast back in her body from fifty years ago, but not the surroundings, then her body would show the scars she had acquired only up to then, and she had noticed Minerva having trouble walking earlier.

Carefully, Minerva undid her boot and peeled off her red and green tartan sock to reveal an angry bruised ankle. Green eyes connected with mocha colored ones.

The pieces fell together for Hermione Granger. "So does this mean your body's been sent back to that summer of 1969?" she asked, and her voice reverberated off of the walls of Minerva's quarters.

"So it would seem," Minerva agreed, albeit carefully.

"I don't get it," Hermione admitted. "Technically, this shouldn't be possible. Is there a way to reverse this, maybe by going back in time with another Time-Turner?" She stopped as she considered her own words. More dabbling in time in this case might not be the best solution. "What if we repaired this one?" she suggested.

Minerva's head shook as she let her right leg slide down to rest beside the other again. She winced at the pain she felt in her ankle when she did so.

"It looks very painful," Hermione sympathized, as she sat down opposite Minerva McGonagall.

"There's no need to worry," she reassured. "It is merely strained, so it is nothing that a bit of ice and Healing Cream won't cure. I now know I shouldn't procrastinate and hope that it gets better on its own, which is a mistake that I did make in '69." Green eyes flickered to the scattered sand and glass, then back to Hermione. "The Time-Turner can't be repaired, I fear. It would be futile to believe for even one moment that I could collect every granual of sand that it held, even magically. Another Time-Turner…" _Time_ was way more intricate than most would know or guess. "If we return in time with the intent to stop this from happening, then we would have to change time to do so. It wouldn't be safe at all. Would I be able to return to this time? It isn't an option."

Hermione nodded. She thought about the talk that she and Minerva McGonagall had had in her third year about the dangers of altering time. She had travelled back in time often enough to know for herself, too. To this day she didn't know how she, Harry and Ron had managed to get away with what they did in their third year. "Do you believe your accident hasn't changed the past then?" she asked, using Minerva's chosen description. _An accident_.

"I'm not sure, Hermione," Minerva admitted. She sighed. "So far, that's not how it looks like. As I see it, a fifty year change that I can't reverse was made when the Time-Turner burst in my hand. I don't know what exactly happened or how. I don't have any answers. What I do know is that I haven't returned in time with it, but that time has returned in me."


	19. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Silence overtook both women. Seconds stretched into minutes, until Minerva's brow furloughed and she eyed the other woman when she suddenly realized Hermione wasn't supposed to be off of work yet. "Shouldn't you be at the Ministry now?" she asked.

Teal eyes stared at her, Hermione saw when she looked up. The Gryffindor had been lost in her musings of how strange it really was to see Minerva like that, about the same age as she was. She had assumed that Minerva McGonagall must have been quite attractive, given her appearance when she had been a professor, and after as well… but this? She hadn't anticipated this. That _something_ that had always been unique about Minerva McGonagall seemed to be only stronger now. "Oh," she said when Minerva's words penetrated. "Indeed. That was actually why I came here. I, ah, thought you should be the first to know that I resigned today. I would really like to teach, if the position is still vacant."

Minerva smiled as she heard the news. "There's no need to worry; I'm sure that Filius wouldn't have accepted anyone else until he knew for sure that you were not going to take it. I wonder what exactly made you resign, though."

"Well…" Hermione began, "ever since I began to work at the Ministy, somehow I've been the to-go-to person when people couldn't fix things on their own, most often not within my own field either. It has only gotten worse over the years, and I didn't have much time to work on my own things anymore, which is why, of late, I either had to work from home or stay late at the Ministry, and I had enough. That, on top of the lack of challenges that I've had, didn't make my job at the Ministry satisfactory anymore."

Minerva McGonagall nodded calmly. Filius wouldn't have doubted Hermione's incredible competences. "You'll like to teach, I'm sure. It is quite the challenge every day, but also very satisfactory every day when the pupils learn to master new spells."

Softly, Hermione smiled.

"I know that you'll be a very good teacher, Hermione," she said, and Minerva's features softened when she finished, "I know that you will be."

"I do hope so," Hermione whispered. She didn't know if Minerva was right on this. If she wasn't right, would she be as disappointed as Hermione would be? Hermione Granger very much hated the thought of eliciting that feeling with Minerva. When her eyes fell upon the older witch's temple again, when her eyes slid down and she saw how very marred the pale skin really was, Hermione got up to look at the wounds a bit better. Affable fingers lingered on the ex-Headmistress' chin as Hermione gently tipped her head back so that she could inspect the wound upon Minerva's temple; it did not bleed anymore, but Hermione could tell that it had a lot –– like most head wounds. "This should be disinfected," she stated. "Your hands should be, too."

"Hermione, that's highly unnecessary…" she began, but when her eyes met Hermione's, she stopped, and a sigh left her. Hermione wouldn't let it rest. In defeat, she waved her wand, and Minerva's medicine box appeared on the table.

Pleased, Hermione let go of Minerva's chin. She turned to the box on the table and reached for a few cotton pads and a see-thought bottle of antiseptic liquid. She banished the top to the low table, then tipped the bottle onto the cotton pad and turned to Minerva again. As Hermione gently dabbed the blood away and disinfected the wound, Minerva remained still, even though it pricked. She knew that it had to be done, anyway. She couldn't say that Hermione wasn't incredibly gentle, at least.

"I…" Minerva began, but then she heard the roar of the fireplace. Both women looked over in time to see the green flames disappear to reveal Hogwarts' diminutive Headmaster. He waved his wand as he left the hearth to make the soot disappear from his robes. As he cast his gaze upwards and saw Minerva and noted her altered appearance, he halted.

Dark eyes shot from Minerva to Hermione and back. As he perceived the much younger appearance of his long-time colleague, surprise marked his face. He knew it was her, but he couldn't say if that made it better… or worse. What had happened in his absence this morning, he did not know.

"Filius," Minerva greeted. "Please, do sit down."

Filius' eyes didn't leave Minerva's as he did as she had suggested. He maneuvered onto the couch and pushed himself further in and watched as Hermione transfigured a cotton pad in a piece of white gauze, which she carefully placed on top of a wound upon Minerva's temple and secured magically.

"I'll put the salve on myself, later," Minerva whispered as Hermione stood back.

At that, however, Hermione quirked her eyebrow –– she knew for a fact that Minerva didn't really consider her own health and welfare anything that was high priority. Hermione remembered how, after the Battle of Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall had told the Healers to tend to all the others first, even though her wounds hadn't been minor, either. With this in mind, Hermione reached for the tin with antibacterial cream which she had noticed before. Minerva raised her hand and allowed Hermione to cradle it in hers with the utmost care only grudgingly. She bit back a hiss as Hermione applied the antibacterial salve. She didn't like any type of medication.

The very last vestiges of humor on Minerva's face disappeared. "I had an accident this morning with my Time-Turner," she stated. "I don't know what happened exactly, but I'm fairly certain I was the only one who was affected by it. The House-Elves are not affected, at least, and as far as I know, aside from all the House-Elves, I was the only one who was in the castle when it happened."

"Unless I'm terribly mistaken, there wasn't anyone else here," Filius Flitwick agreed. The surprise in his face still hadn't fully disappeared. He had many questions for Minerva, but maybe he should let the matter rest until he and Minerva were alone. He waited for a moment longer, then addressed Hermione. "I wouldn't have expected to see you back so very soon," he admitted. He felt hopeful. Time pressed. People in Diagon Alley had pestered him all day about his inability so far to hire someone for Transfigurations, however nicely worded.

"I hadn't, either," Hermione admitted, "However, since I resigned from my job at the Ministry today, I wanted to see if your offer is still on the table. It fits with the direction I would like my life to take from now on, and I believe that it is something that I would enjoy."

"I'd be more than happy to accept your acceptance!" Filius exclaimed. This was the best news that he had had today. "I'm still in need of a Gryffindor Head of House, too. Typically, it is the Transfigurations professor, but if you're not interested in filling in that position as well…"

"I… I'd be honored."


	20. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

When Hermione's footsteps weren't audible anymore –– when the Bell Towers chimed, she had told them that she really had to go pick up her children from their playdate and had excused herself to do so –– the Headmaster turned to Minerva, concern and worry in the subtle crease of his brow. "Minerva, how are you feeling?" he asked.

"I'm… all right, I guess," the Gryffindor responded with some hesitation. Then she saw his eyes upon her left temple. "I'll be all right, Filius," she said.

The Headmaster's brow quirked as he slid his blue eyes down to her injured ankle. "Is it as painful as then?" he asked when he saw how bruised and swollen it was and connected her appearance with the injury he remembered her getting shortly after he began to teach at Hogwarts. Peeves had had the genius idea to throw a balloon full of cold water right before her feet when she was on the staircase. Minerva slipped, rather painfully. Filius was convinced that he had never seen Peeves more scared than that day, after Minerva's anger eruption. He and his colleagues had all quietly reminded themselves not to anger her and get her infamous Scottish ire over them the way Peeves had.

Minerva was a very private person, and that was no secret. Most people wouldn't dare ask her any question that touched upon the subject of Minerva's health in any way. Filius wouldn't have dared in the beginning of their friendship either. However, the two had known each other for so long already that he knew he could ask her such a question and get a direct and honest answer from her.

"Indeed…" Minerva admitted. "It hurts just as much, and I hope that I do not have to see Peeves today. At least it let me determine just how far I… my body… has returned in time."

"Half a century is…" Filius began. He couldn't find the right word to describe how very difficult it made things, but Minerva understood nonetheless. "What happened earlier exactly? Surely, we should be able to reverse this?" he asked.

"The Time-Turner burst in my hand. If there's a way, I don't know it," Minerva stated. "We both know how dangerous and utterly intricate time is. Magic allows for us to bend it, but when it bends the way it has today… I reckon I should be glad that I haven't aged half a century instead. I'm not so sure that I would have ever dared to look at my reflection again."

Filius couldn't help but smile slightly at her very dry humor. "What will you do?" he asked.

Minerva's teal eyes became guarded when she met his gaze. "I can't answer that, Filius," she said. "I doubt that there's a way to reverse it, but I will have to try. I have no desire to go and inform the Ministry before I have tried absolutely everything. If I can't reverse it, I reckon I will have to do so in the end, but, until then, this has to stay quiet. After that… Well. There are so many things that I regret never having done when I was younger, and I assume that my body will adapt to that of a thirty-something woman and that I will begin to feel more energetic than I've been lately, but I just… don't know. I've taught most of my life, had a day away from Hogwarts rarely. I'm not sure I know how else to live anymore. I liked to teach."

"What do you regret most?" Filius wondered, and as he asked, he knew this was quite an… invasive question. He didn't know if Minerva would answer at all.

"What I regret most is that I didn't have a family and children," Minerva whispered. "If I can't reverse this, though, would I really be able to begin anew, correct that? I don't look like I'm eighty-four, but I still have eighty-four years of life experience."

Calmly, Filius nodded at that. He understood her thoughts. No matter how old she looked right then, she had the experiences and the wisdom of someone so much older –– exactly half a century older. Only her body had returned in time this morning and not she herself. If anything, Minerva McGonagall was remarkably calm considering the situation. He wasn't sure anyone else would have really managed.

"Come October, do I celebrate my eighty-fourth or my thirty-fourth again?" She shook her head, then buried it in her hands for a moment and forced herself to look back up at her colleague, hands falling back into her lap. She sighed. "I shouldn't jump the gun. It will only drive me utterly mad," she stated. "Filius, to what do I owe your visit anyway?" She wanted, needed, to discuss basically anything but the accident.

This time, it is Filius' turn to sigh deeply, as he remembered the reason why he had come to Minerva's rooms. He understood her need to absorb what had happened and try to come to terms with it and its repercussions on her own. Merlin knew Rita Skeeter would have a field day with the story when she heard of it, for instance.

"I met O'Connelly this morning in Diagon Alley…" Filius began. "I fear that we'll have to look for a new Charms professor, too. O'Connelly reminded me that he only accepted the job to help us, and that he hadn't intended to teach for so long already. I reckon I shouldn't be surprised. He told me he will stay on until we've got someone to replace him, or until the end of the year."

Minerva sighed, then shook her head. "O'Connelly's timing is absolutely unfortunate. We'll have a few months to look for someone else, at least." She sat back against the couch. "We already knew when he took the job that it was only a stop gap. It wouldn't be the first."


	21. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

"Mummy!"

Before Hermione had had the chance to fully enter, little Hugo had already appeared in the hallway with his Nintendo, jumping up and down, mentioning that he had at last managed to pass the level he had stranded at a few days ago and beginning a very fast-paced update on how very difficult the next one was as well. When she hugged Hugo hello, as was their custom, she saw her thirteen-year-old daughter in the doorway with a book in her hands. She, too, hugged her mother hello. The children must have heard her voice as she stepped into the small hallway and greeted her ex with but a polite smile and a "Good evening."

It rarely happened that she came by when the children were with their father. She could tell he was curious as to why she had chosen to do so right now. She ran her fingers briefly through her son's ginger hair before he pulled back and redirected all attention back to his game. As she did so, she realized she felt very unwell. She knew this conversation needed to be had either way, though.

"Ahem," Ron sounded, "It is ten, so..."

Hermione nodded. "Of course," she said. "It is bedtime." She and Ron had agreed that ten o'clock was a good time for both to go to bed in the holidays ── any later than that resulted in a very hard time getting up before lunch for both of them and in Hugo, sometimes Rose as well, falling asleep on the couch. On top of that, Hermione was afraid that letting them stay up too long now would just lead to more trouble when school started once more and they had to be up much earlier to go to their lessons after their breakfasts.

"Goodnight, my sweethearts," Hermione whispered; a warm and genuine smile passed over the mother's tired face. She had hoped that the children would have been asleep already, but she was glad that she had been able to wish them a good night as well.

"Good night, Mum. Good night, Dad," it sounded in response before the children moved to go upstairs to change and go to bed as they were told to do.

"Hugo..."

With but a sigh of defeat that he had, again, been caught, Hugo placed his Nintendo console in his father's open hand before he trudged off after Rose to go to bed as well. Otherwise, he would play all night.

The parents waited for both of their children to have disappeared before Ron inclined his head in the direction of the doorway. She followed him as he entered the living room and sat down as well when he did as he made a rather weird hand gesture.

She didn't know how to say this, exactly... How do you tell your ex that you've switched jobs from one day to the next, and, particularly, that the children won't only have to go through all changes that come with that, but that they'll be getting a sister or brother on top of that, too? How do you tell him you're having his third child, when you have already been divorced for two years?

"Well..." Ron started after several moments of silence. "What's going on? I doubt that you came over to just tell them good night."

Hermione nodded. "You're right," she said. She bit down on her lower lip. The Gryffindor witch knew it wouldn't be easier next week, next month... She took in a gulp of air, which she let go very slowly. Then she decided to tell him the 'easy news' first. "I have resigned from the Ministry, earlier today."

Ron's eyes bulged when the words fell from her mouth and he took in what she had just said. "So, the rumor is actually true? Some people mentioned you had quit. I didn't know whether or not to believe it. You had left the office already, though, and Kingsley wasn't there either, as usual in the afternoon. I can't believe you left the Ministry."

Hermione sighed. "Well," she began. "I do not know what has been rumored, but yeah, I did. I haven't had a challenge at the Ministry for years now, and that is what I need to stay happy in a job. That's why..." She paused. She sighed. "That's why I am going to join the staff at Hogwarts next month... I'll be teaching Transfiguration from now on. I just have to go discuss some last details, tomorrow morning."

Ron's eyes bulged more as he ran a hand through his hair, obviously speechless. His mouth opened more than once soundlessly before he managed to say, "Whoa. You didn't stall at all."

"Well, it was a tad unexpected for me as well," Hermione admitted.

Several moments passed by; both Ron and Hermione remained quiet. Hermione looked down at her hands as she, in that moment, was reminded of how the last few years of her marriage to him had been. She remembered the silence and the many fights. Ron's voice pulled her from her thoughts, "I wish you had mentioned you were looking into a new job, though. Rose and Hugo are my children, too. When they are involved, whether we're divorced or not, it is my business, and that means that I should have a say."

"Ron..." Hermione started, but then she stopped herself. She couldn't reason with him, anyway. That was part of why she had divorced him. She knew it was useless to try to tell him that she was an individual aside from her role of mother and ex-wife, too. She sighed. There was no use to delaying the inevitable either. It was with heavy heart that she broke the news. There would never be a good time. "Ron, I'm with child," she whispered, then looked back up to watch as Ron's control snapped.

"You're _what_?!" he exclaimed. Then he jumped up, ears turning scarlet fast. When he was livid, that always happened. Then he began to pace. That was usually what he did before he began to scream. "You... have already shared the bed with someone else! I can't believe you!" he screamed when he came to a halt. His entire face matched his ears now. "We've only been divorced for two years, and you are already having another man's child! I never ever knew you were dating people again!"

"I'm not!" Hermione shrieked. "I don't screw all that I can get, unlike you! _Would you keep it down?_" She hissed when she saw him open his mouth once more to undoubtedly go off on her for saying what they both knew was nothing less than the truth.

With effort, Ron managed to shut himself up.

"Ron, it is yours."

When he heard this, Ron slowly sank down on the couch again and stared ahead into thin air. "You mean... Whoa." Then he turned back to his ex-wife and blinked as if he had never seen her before that moment. Silence reigned for several seconds between them. Then, however... he smiled. "I am going to be a dad again!"

Hermione had expected that this would happen. She knew that she had to be very clear with him right now. "You are," she agreed. "You'll be involved. You'll get the chance to be this child's father as much as Rose's and Hugo's... but we're not going to get back together. This doesn't change all of the issues we had before."

"What..."

Hermione shook her head gently. "I won't do it. I'm sorry." She paused. As she did so, she looked at him to ensure that he was listening. "I'm not in love anymore, if I ever was." She ignored the look of hurt in his eyes and forced herself to go on. She didn't like it one bit, though. "I've had quite a lot of time to order my thoughts in the two years we've been separated, Ron. I do wonder if we didn't just get together when we did because it was expected of us."

"I'm sure that it was!" Ron said. "That's because we belong together!"

"No, Ron," Hermione stated, "We don't belong together. I do not regret that we had a son and daughter together, nor do I regret this unborn child, no matter how unexpected the news." As she said it, she knew she meant it. "We put in what we could and gave us a shot at a happy ending together, and I don't regret it. However, we aren't the same people we were then. We've both changed. We would just end up in the same vicious little circle we've been in for so long. We would go back to fighting every damn day. Deep down, you know we've changed too much for it not to happen again.

"I don't know how you can see this work," he challenged her.

Hermione sighed. She didn't remember when she had felt so damn exhausted last. "It will just have to. I am sure that we'll somehow manage," she said, "After all, we've managed to create him or her as well... I have had a check-up yesterday. Everything's fine. My new job will be less stressful, so hopefully, whatever happened when I was with Hugo won't happen again now. Plus, there's a Healer close by if there's anything at all."

"'You'll be involved', you said!"

The Gryffindor witch was on the very verge of tears. She felt exhausted and angry and upset and hurt. "I wasn't entirely certain. We both know how unlikely it really is to find yourself with child after one attempt, however unintended."

When her ex opened his mouth once more to continue to argue, she held her hand up and got to her feet. "This is where I give up," she said. "For years, we haven't really managed to have a reasonable conversation. I don't know why I thought it could happen right now."

With that, she turned to go.

Ron, however, got to his feet, too, and took a hold of one of her wrists, rather roughly. "You can't just announce I'm going to be a dad again and leave when I really deserve answers!" he thundered, forgetting about Rose and Hugo upstairs... or not caring. "You can't!"

Hermione pulled back her arm and looked him straight in the eye. "Actually, Ron," she whispered, "I can. If you could just have a reasonable conversation, I wouldn't be leaving. However, you're seemingly incapable ── still."

"I'm not!"

"You are," Hermione stated. Angrily, the brunette wiped the corner of one eye. Hermione really did hate to show her tears, especially him ── he wasn't worth it. "I would appreciate it if you let it rest, for now," she very nearly begged. "I'd really like to wait to tell the rest of the family, let alone the world, until I have passed my first three months. Also, I hope you bear your daughter's happiness in mind, on Saturday, when we see each other next at her birthday party ── if you can't do it for me, please do it for your daughter."


	22. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Minerva looked into the mirror. As she did so, she tilted her head a bit to the side to look at her injured temple better. The area surrounding the large gash had bruised and had a blue and purple hue now. It didn't hurt much, though, unless she touched the wounded area directly, despite the fact that it all looked very painful.

Of course, if she wanted to do so, she could easily hide it with a Glamour Charm. Minerva McGonagall stayed nearly always in her rooms, though, and it was only very seldom that she left them, so she didn't bother. Especially now, the witch had no intention to do just that.

The ex-Headmistress released a long sigh as she lowered the cotton pad that she had just disinfected the injury on her left temple with and, with a softly-murmured, nearly inaudible, wandless spell, banished it to the bin that stood in the corner. She lifted her hand and inspected the bandage that she had just applied with a bit of magical help, too. The burns hurt a lot less already. In fact, her ankle hurt worst of all right that moment ── much more than the injuries of her very unfortunate fall with the Time-Turner.

Somehow, she felt very much stronger magically now.

She couldn't help her eyes from travelling right back to the mirror; her thirty-four-year-old self stared back at her. She hadn't adjusted yet. She still had a hard time believing it, processing it ── despite the fact she lived in a world of magic. Somehow, though, after decades in that world, despite the existence of accidental, uncontrolled magic, you believe you have seen most, if not all, of it. Nonetheless, there she was in the 'now', in her body of decades ago. This reflection hadn't stared back at her in a while, and it would be a long time still, until Minerva McGonagall had gotten used to how she looked, she knew. She knew that there was only a small chance that whatever had happened when the Time-Turner burst in her hand could be reversed, but she also knew she had to try. She rationally knew she had to try to find all information that she could about this specific kind of accidental magic and any options for reverse... if only to not have to go through the whole mess with the Ministry that was sure to ensue. She told herself not to worry about that until later.

Minerva McGonagall looked over her appearance very closely. What was most notable, of course, was that the braid that laid over the witch's right shoulder didn't show a single gray hair at all. She had only begun to visibly turn gray in her early fifties, which was late. Since her youth the Gryffindor witch had taken to pulling her long hair in a sideways braid before bed, to stop it from tangling as much. It was an arduous task she had not been up to doing very often anymore in later years, if at all. Somehow, using magic to do it hadn't really appealed to her. The long braid resting over one shoulder was silky ebony now.

The lines that had been visible along the outer corners of her green eyes, as well as the ones upon her upper lip, were hard to find. At first, these lines hadn't at all been pronounced, but they had deepened every year, become more visible.

Carefully, she ran the fingertips of her non-injured hand along her forehead, her cheek, feeling the same smooth texture of years ago. Had age really done all of that? Additionally, while Minerva McGonagall had always had a pale complexion in later years, her cheeks wore a soft pink tint again that once had resided upon her features every day. As a result, she looked considerably more healthy and youthful in a subtle way. Minerva's lips, too, were reddish now rather than pale and chapped. It wasn't that she hadn't taken care of her older self, but that had been a lot harder to do for her in the last decade or so.

What was partly noticeable in the tall mirror, too, which she confirmed when she looked down at the rest of her body, was that her breasts looked more rounded and voluptuous, more firm, than they had prior to the Time-Turner accident. Once Hermione and Filius had left her rooms the day prior and she had at last been alone, for the first time since what she referred to as 'the accident' in her head, she had had to find one of her old bras in the very back of her drawer and had had to use magic to make it fit properly. The other one had hurt, and it had suddenly gotten so small her breasts spilled from it in less-than-modest ways.

A sigh fell from thin lips as the former Headmistress turned away from the mirror and the reflection that was her, yet wasn't. Hogwarts had been a home to Minerva McGonagall for so long that she didn't have to pay any attention to where she was going any longer as she left the bathroom and thereupon chose to make for the sanctity of her bedroom.

The moonlight that shone softly through the thin curtains illuminated Minerva's bedroom just a bit. She hadn't bothered to turn on the light. Shapes danced upon the ceiling, she noted when she looked up at it, settled under her covers. She watched them very carefully, yet didn't. The shapes became vague as her mind pushed the many worries that she had tried to suppress for now to the surface of Minerva's sleepy consciousness. What a day it had been. She was too exhausted for words. It would be a very long night, too, though. She felt the pounding in her right ankle as she rolled over. How was she going to do all this again?


	23. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

When she walked in, Hermione's parents already seemed to have gone to bed. The semi-detached house was dark and cold, with the lights turned off. Despite the fact that it was summer, it did still get quite cold at night, as she had discovered. Hermione hadn't gone home immediately ── instead, she had Apparated to a park in the neighborhood and had just sat on a bench there, in the cold, darkening evening, lost in thought as many memories of her pushing Rose and Hugo on the swings and of them going down the slide and being intrigued by the ducks in the small pond flooded her mind. At last, near midnight, she had gotten too cold; the mother had taken a deep sigh and had Apparated to her parents' house.

Hermione Granger was exhausted, and she had a terrible headache. She felt how her head pounded, and she could swear that it was only getting worse every second. When she entered the kitchen and turned on the light, she saw a small note on the kitchen counter, in her mother's handwriting. Her mother had kept her dinner in the microwave, ready to heat up when she got back to the house. She never truly had understood all the mothering even when she had long passed the age of twenty until she had had Rose and Hugo and could very well imagine doing the same for them, and for the new baby in her womb, in twenty or thirty or more years' time. Since being a mother herself, Hermione had learned to appreciate those gestures more. As well-intended as it was, though, she felt sick at the thought of any sort of food.

Without thought, she felt herself walk to her room and shed her clothes and ready for bed, foregoing dinner. She felt so drained ── in every way. Sometimes, people didn't fit together, and that was not necessarily anyone's fault. It had to do with personalities, with limits, and with how people, based on both of these things, reacted.

The tears hadn't stopped in over an hour now, and still she felt like she couldn't stop anytime soon. Every single time she managed to calm down for a few minutes, the tears began to roll down her cheeks once again not even two minutes later, her mind dabbling in the conversation with Ron she had left and many more from before their divorce. With them, feelings came to the surface, and especially bad ones which she had really wanted to forget, but couldn't, because that wasn't how Hermione Granger's mind worked at all. She was certain that hormones resulted in her very emotional state of mind now, but she had reached a limit a long time ago, too.

She had needed a real change, and the end of her marriage was the first step to achieve that. It hadn't been an impulsive decision; she had put a lot of thought into telling him that she thought it was best they end their marriage. She had wanted the best for the children more than for her, and that was why it had been such a hard decision, but in the end, she had concluded that it was not more right for them to grow up in a home with their parents always fighting. She had moved back to live with her parents as a stop gap, but now she and her children had been there for close to two years. Her children didn't mind, she knew, nor did her parents, but still.

The change of job and living space was a big step in the right direction, too, but Hermione wasn't there yet. She needed to take a real hold of the life she led again, reevaluate everything ── and if not for herself, then for her children.

It would be very hard, though. She knew this well. What she knew as well, however, was that she could do it. There was no room for self-doubt. From tomorrow on, she would continue to go down this path, to that new journey she had set for herself, even though she did not know the destination yet exactly. _Tomorrow_. Exhausted, she collapsed onto her old bed and fell asleep nearly immediately.

Asleep, Hermione Granger was free from worry for just a few hours ── worry regarding things that had to be addressed. How would the children react to the news that she was going to have a baby again and that she was going to be a professor and move to Hogwarts permanently, for instance? It would be quite a lot for them to take in all at once. A change of life did come with its repercussions, things that had to be addressed for the wanted changes to happen and the risk of losing something that mattered to you, or someone.

The new life she carried in her womb would, of course, meant a stressful time to come once he or she was born. It came with being woken at night and many feedings, and with a lot more diapers. The fact that she was not going to work for the British Ministry of Magic anymore would already alleviate some of the stress, though ── potentially a lot of it as well. A part of her somehow felt... excited, too, as she thought of the new life she was going to care for in a few months' time. The feeling was incredibly brief, but there.

She was certain that Rita Skeeter would be delighted to know both bits of news and to write it as controversially as possible. She knew many letters would follow from people who didn't have any right to know how, know why, but were too curious not to ask anything once everything exploded. Shame wasn't a part of it for her, but the critique from strangers who had the nerve to judge for being human.


	24. Chapter 23

Chapter 22

Hermione tossed her nighty onto the bed, pulling open her wardrobe. She had slept in later than she had in months, the time being just after eight. It was as if her body had known that she no longer had to wake up so early. If she had thought she had had enough sleep in the days when she had had about six hours a night, then she had no idea how she felt now. She felt more energetic than she had, in well... years. With a smile dancing on her lips, she pulled a pair of comfortable jeans from the rack in her wardrobe. It had been ages since she had worn something like that out of the weekends and just on a general day in the week. Today was a Thursday, August 22, and the first time in years her schedule was clear, and she could just relax. She would have to go by Hogwarts that morning sometime, but otherwise she had nothing planned and could fill in the rest of the day as she wished.

Pulling up the pair of jeans and fastening the button and the zipper, Hermione wondered what top she should wear today. Intuitively, she reached for a loose purple tank, and paused as she pulled it down; her gaze having caught her reflection in the mirror. She wasn't showing yet, but it didn't stop her from turning and inspecting herself from every vantage point. She wasn't even two months along yet and with her other pregnancies had it been the same and had she only begun showing at about four months. She put her right hand flat upon her belly as she kept up her top with the other at belly height. A rush of excitement flashed through her at the thought of her belly being nicely round and full in a few months' time.

Letting her top drop she padded to the door to make her way downstairs and into the kitchen. Her parents were still sitting at the breakfast table and looked up at her in utter surprise, neither one of them able to say anything. "Morning," Hermione greeted, reaching for one of the upper cupboards to retrieve a cup. It had been years since she had had breakfast together with her parents on a weekday. A small smile played on her lips as she sat down in her usual chair and reached for the teapot, filling her cup half before setting the pot down again and lifting her cup to her lips, taking a meticulous sip. "I resigned from the Ministry yesterday," Hermione announced, lowering her cup to the table again with her hands still clutching it as she looked up at her parents. Undulated shock laced both their faces.

"You mean, you gave up your job yesterday?" Her mother asked, voice mildly higher in pitch, the words not quite penetrating. She had known that Hermione's job was stressful and that she must not have been happy for quite some time considering the hours alone she worked at the Ministry, not counting her lack of down time.

Hermione nodded. "Yes. That's right. I already have an alternative, though. I'm going by Hogwarts later this morning to go over some final details with the Headmaster so that I can start teaching Transfiguration there in September. Arrangements will be made for the weeks the children are with me... I'll make sure that you can still see them when possible, though," She hurriedly added as an afterthought, wanting to assuage any concern by her parents regarding being able to see their grandchildren.

"Hogwarts?" Mrs. Granger said rather in surprise. Ever since Hermione had graduated there the name had not fallen anymore. Sometimes, the name of the Headmistress had still fallen when something had been in the newspaper about her or Hogwarts, but that had become exceedingly rare since the year after the battle.

Hermione nodded. "Yes. I think that will be more suitable for the baby. I don't think I would be able to do it for a third time without complications from all the stress I had at the Ministry."

Mr. Granger spluttered, spraying a fine mist of tea over the table. Mrs. Granger just looked at her daughter in shock. "You're...?" Hermione's father began. "But... How?" He finally managed. "I mean, I know how, but... You have not been dating since your divorce or...?" He leaned forward, "Have you?"

Hermione looked straight at her father. "No, Dad. I have not been dating. I wonder where I would have found the time. Lately I have even only come home to sleep..." Inadvertently she cleared her throat, "Ron and I had a one time fling again in the beginning of last month." The shame of her actions caused her gaze to fall down. "Since the divorce, I have not been using birth control and well… Ron stopped me one night and one thing led to another." She forced herself to lift her gaze, "The reasons for our divorce were founded. I couldn't and still can't imagine myself with anyone else anytime soon either. It is too early. I had not been happy with Ron for a while, but we have been together for nearly twenty years. I had no other choice but to get divorced, but it's still not something you throw away just like that."

Hermione's mom and dad both remained silent when looking at their daughter. The sadness in her tone had not escaped either of them and they knew how much Ronald Weasley must mean to her daughter no matter the kind of their love to each other. She still cared a lot about him, and she even still loved him with all her heart, but ever since the beginning they had suspected it would not last. They were too different. Their daughter was a realist who never gave up hope and tried to see things as they could be... while he saw things in black and white and was downright pessimistic in most instances.

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><p>I certainly owe <em>asouldreams <em>for all her effort.


	25. Chapter 24

Chapter 23

"'Ermione!"

Hermione Granger halted in her tracks on the way to the main doors of the castle and turned her head to see old friend, Rubeus Hagrid, stepping from the Forbidden Forest with his loyal dog Fang right beside him. Of course his initial pet called Fang had passed long since... but in remembrance of him, Hagrid had given the new boarhound puppy the same name. Despite the distance, she could see the smile hidden by his moustache and beard. As he came closer she noticed his dark eyes twinkling madly and couldn't help her own smile soon matching his. "Good morning, Hagrid," she greeted. "You're coming back from the Forest early."

"Ye're quite early yerself," he said as he finally neared her and pulled her into a big bear hug. She could swear she heard her bones crack, and it took all of her self control not to struggle to free herself. "I haven't seen ye in a while! Always busy at the Ministry, they say when I see someone. Ye're not workin' today then?"

Hermione's head shook. "No, I'm not. I don't work at the Ministry anymore. I gave my resignation. Time for a change."

"Oh, so what are ye doin' here then at Hogwarts? Came ta visit?" His eyes twinkled upon the suggestion.

"Ah... I was on my way to the Headmaster's office. The Headmaster told me yesterday to come by today before noon to run over some last things together." She chuckled at his confused expression. It was completely understandable, though. "You'll see me a lot more often in the very near future. I'll be teaching Transfiguration, beginning in September."

Hagrid's smile grew wider as he received the news and he wrapped her in a second bear hug. "I'm so glad ta hear it! So we'll be colleagues from now on then! Jus' like Neville Longbottom! I always knew ye had it in ye to be a great Hogwarts professor!"

Hermione smiled back, thankful to be able to breathe again. She was glad he didn't ask her why she hadn't come by yesterday or so... She felt guilty right then as she realized how little she had actually seen the gamekeeper of late. It was true that until her resignation she had been busy at the Ministry and if not there, with her children... And when she had been here yesterday or the day before, she had been too preoccupied to stop by to visit him. Despite _wanting _to let Hagrid know of her recent development, she decided to wait until her first trimester was complete without complications... "Thank you. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go. Professor Flitwick is probably already waiting for me, and I don't want him to wait on me when I'm sure he has a bunch of other commitments besides running over the final details of the post with me."

"Of course," Hagrid stated. "I should probably be heading to Knockturn Alley as well before it gets too late – I need something to clear the bunch of Flesh-Eating Slugs. I discovered another colony of them again in the school cabbage yesterday when walking around the gardens and they eat it all, plus they'll be gett'n' young ones soon..."

"Alright," she said, "I'll see you soon then. Goodbye, Hagrid." She smiled at him one last time before continuing her way up the path to the main doors and let her feet absently take her to her destination. She had been there a handful of times, and then typically with Harry or because of him, but most students or former students had never been there at all. She quietly mused if the majority of the students maybe even knew where the Headmaster's office was. She wasn't as dumb as to believe all students entering Hogwarts had ever even read _Hogwarts, A History_.

A stray thought of stopping by to see how Minerva was coping in her new body after she had met with the Headmaster brought her to the foot of the Headmaster's office.

As she ended up with the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office she suddenly realized that she didn't know the password. The ugly stone gargoyle looked at her questioningly. Before she, however, had the chance to explain that she didn't know the password and explain why she was there, the gargoyle asked, "Hermione Granger?"

"Ah, yes," Hermione replied with a frown.

"The Headmaster warned me that a lady carrying your name would come by today for a meeting with him," the gargoyle ground out, already moving aside to let her pass. Hermione stepped onto the winding stone staircase and a minute later was standing before the dark oaken door. She calmly raised her hand and nearly gasped in surprise when it flew open of its own accord at her knock.

"Ah," Filius Flitwick greeted from his chair behind the stately desk, and she quietly assumed he must be sitting on a bunch of pillows to reach that height or utilizing a series of charms, "Miss Granger. I was expecting you. I'm sorry for the inconvenience with the password. I only realized it this morning. The password is 'Flittery Feather' if you have need in the future. Now, sit down. Sit down." He gestured to the chair opposite.

She followed his suggestion and sat trying to banish suddenly feeling like she was a student once again attending Hogwarts.

"Now," Flitwick continued as she sat. "We'll start off with your pay..."

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><p>I certainly owe <em>asouldreams <em>for all her effort.


	26. Chapter 25

Chapter 24

Despite _knowing_ that Minerva now appeared younger, there was no way Hermione could have prepared herself for the breathtaking sight as she looked up from the couch, which was littered with old books. As the door fell shut behind her, she vaguely realized that she recognized a few of aged tombs, her intellect having been re-routed to a more primal feeling. The long ebony wand rested on the arm rest of the couch in which Minerva sat, her legs curled up under her. Hermione noted that Minerva barely looked up on her entry, and when she did a small smile graced youthful features.

"All set?" she asked, seemingly not having expected anyone else at her door.

Hermione mutely nodded, sitting down on the other couch because of the lack of room on the other. She let her eyes slowly take in Minerva's _younger_ physique; however, she found herself feeling mildly shocked by the way her long black hair was hanging in a braid over her shoulder – seeing Minerva without her customary bun was... awkward.

Maybe Minerva hadn't expected her to stop by...

_That was utter nonsense, _Hermione inwardly countered, _she totally had expected her._ _Her reaction had said enough. Besides, when she had come by rather unexpectedly on Tuesday her hair had been up in her customary bun_.

Hermione thought Minerva's braid looked good on her; it made her look even younger than the age she _thought_ she had been returned to. The new look accentuated her slender, willowy neck, and... Hermione's breath caught for a moment. She never would have expected her to have been so beautiful in her younger years despite her still having been attractive before the accident in a way... but an entirely other way, and Hermione could not wrap her mind around why she had never married... or maybe she had, but...

Minerva still wore the same kind of teaching robes she usually wore, though – probably by lack of something else. "Yes, we have come to an agreement about the pay and such. How are you feeling?"

"I'll live," Minerva succinctly replied. "Now what type of agreement did you two come to?"

From the short answer, Hermione knew that Minerva would not allow her to inquire further regarding her health and thus let the subject be – for now. "I'm hoping to move in on Sunday. It's Rose's birthday bash at the Weasleys' on Saturday." Hermione reached up with both hands, rubbing her face tiredly.

Minerva quietly tipped her head, looking at the other woman. She shoved the open photo album aside atop one of the others and the diaries she had retrieved the day before. She had been slow moving this morning, and had chosen to look through them before starting finishing up her 'spring cleaning' she had begun the day before after breakfast. Now that Hermione had accepted the job, two children would be running around her rooms soon... and she'd need to finish 'cleaning' before the week was out. "It doesn't seem like you are looking forward to it," Minerva noticed.

Hermione glanced up, eying Minerva with red-rimmed eyes. She merely shook her head, not really trusting her voice to speak. The mere thought of her row with Ron and the birthday bash to be coming up in two days enough to make her fear that he would ruin their only daughter's party... tears pressing against the backs of her eyes.

Maybe she should have waited to tell him until after her critical phase was over. The fear that he would blurt it out while at the party rippled through her, as he tended to get drunk at such occasions and as such, he usually got overly loquacious... and always told the truth.

That was a fact.

Some people say things they don't mean when they are drunk – most maybe. However, Ronald Weasley didn't. The words he spoke when drunk poured straight from the heart, soul and his mind. Hermione had discovered that very soon into their marriage, but she had tried and succeeded to ignore it for years until in the end she could no longer deny the pain that ripped through her heart at the words he spoke when drunk. In the morning he would never remember his moments of truth anymore... sleep had taken them into the ether. But, she would.

"What's the matter, dear?" Minerva asked, her forehead scrunching up with worry as she noticed the reddish hue along Hermione's eyes.

Hermione's gaze fell and lingered upon her shoes as she swallowed and managed to let out, "Ron and I had an awful row last night. I… talked to him about the baby, and I fear that he will start again at Rose's birthday party and ruin it. I already regret having told him now..."

Minerva untucked her legs and rose to her feet, immediately reaching for the armrest of the couch with her left hand; her legs having gone numb from sitting too long. She could barely stand on them, only to have the tingling augmented by the sharp, lancing pain of her ankle. She had been careful enough not to put any weight on that ankle while sitting and now in her trying to comfort Hermione; she seemed to have momentarily forgotten about the injury.

Her fingers tightened around her wand as she pushed away from the armrest and somehow managed to launch herself at the couch with what could loosely be construed as one more step. Rather absentmindedly she waved her wand to conjure a pillow and an ice pack on the table not unlike the day before, uneasily lifting her injured ankle on it, before reaching one arm around Hermione's back as a hollow sob sounded – the first of many. "What have... I gotten myself into?" Hermione's voice brokenly sounded as she sank into the embrace of the older woman and the tears began making their way down her cheeks.

"Shh," Minerva soothed, "everything's going to be alright." Hermione's head shook against Minerva's shoulder, and she could see from her angle that the younger woman clamped down on her lower lip and tried to take a few deep breaths in order to calm down. "It is. Trust me."

At that, Hermione turned her head up again so that she could look in the other woman's eyes. Mocha and teal green connected as Hermione brokenly whispered, "I trust you." She gently squeezed Minerva's arm, "In fact, I don't think that there's anyone else in the world that I trust more."

The tiniest smile spread across the older woman's lips. "Good," she murmured, glad that the little comment appeared to have touched Hermione so that she had temporarily ceased crying. Maybe it was the realization that Hermione was not alone in this. Minerva momentarily doubted about whether to say it in words, but somehow kept herself from doing so. Hermione would know. She quietly tightened her hold around the other woman's back and tenderly reached up with the other hand to wipe away the wet tear tracks from flushed cheeks with her fingertips very, very slowly before letting her hand fall away.

Hermione smiled weakly up at the older woman before letting her head drop against Minerva's shoulder again, enjoying the feel of another's embrace in silence. Ron had never been particularly tender, though he had had his moments; but not since she had told Ron that she was moving back to her parents.

And she… just gripped Minerva to her tighter; sinking willingly into the embrace she so desperately wanted and needed as the moment of tenderness silently stretched on.

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><p>I certainly owe <em>asouldreams <em>for all her effort.


	27. Chapter 26

Author's Note: I'm... stunned. I never would have anticipated seeing that number of reviews on Chapter 24. I'm very grateful, and therefore I'm possibly even more sorry in regard to the delay. I certainly am.

Anyhow, I've gotten some interesting reviews of which I personally thought the answer might be 'enlightening' for all you readers – of one in particular.

* from _viennelanuit: "truth be told after the first few chapters i didn't want to keep on reading you story, because for my liking you portrayed Minerva too much as a victim who passively waits for ther death and does nothing else, and this is a behaviour that i can't understand and dislike."_ - That was absolutely not my intention – rather emphasize she's possibly more accepting of what may or may not come (like death). Minerva's certainly not had a very easy life at all, and in my interpretation Hogwarts has always been a modicum of finding rewarding, of achieving, due to being able to share her knowledge and enlighten youth. Age and evolution forced her kindly to make room for the others, the younger… leaving her now without the satisfaction that she's always felt as a teacher; being occupied. All that she always did so incredibly easily isn't so 'very easy' any longer; due to her age, the circumstances. She tended to perform great magic once upon a time, but it seems to have been more than a lifetime since she could do all that she wanted without it really being a challenge. Minerva's magic is no longer at its most powerful. She's stoic. She's unembellished. However – she's very autonomous, too… Therefore I easily imagine her rather upset to realize it. She doesn't like to be seen vulnerable.

I've gotten some reviews suggesting longer chapters, too. Sadly enough, the chances of my chapters becoming longer are small.

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><p><span>Chapter 25<span>

Hermione's gaze fell upon the diaries and the photo albums – particularly on the one lying open atop of the others.

Minerva's gaze followed hers, landing on the photo albums and diaries, too. With barely a flick, she nonverbally summoned the open picture book into her lap. "My parents were both killed in the war with Grindelwald," Minerva whispered, "as were my two younger brothers. The only reason why I didn't get killed as well is I had left before dawn that morning, not long before Grindelwald's men arrived. Being an early riser saved my life." Her fingers trailed along the top of the page, voice becoming reverent. "There wasn't much left of our home when I arrived. I was only able to salvage a few mementos."

Hermione settled deeper into the couch again as Minerva pulled back her arm from around her. She, however, remained close to the older woman as she too looked at the pictures. She had hundreds of questions she wanted to pose, but she didn't know if she should or even could ask Minerva such personal questions.

Yes, she had lain in the older woman's arms a mere moment ago, but the moment was over, and Minerva McGonagall was still her former mentor... her ex-Transfiguration professor... her ex-Head of House... not to speak about her having been the ex-Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts and the subsequent Headmistress in her final year of schooling...

Minerva's gentle timbre brought Hermione from her internal struggle, "It has been a great many years... It happened about mid-August. I was out with a friend to Diagon Alley. I remember that it hadn't been very good weather that summer – except that day, for it was absolutely… beautiful. The skies were a brilliant shade of blue, the scent of the heather coming off the hill..." she paused as her gaze drifted back to the clear, albeit different memory, "We took the liberty to go shop together at Diagon Alley. I needed new robes from Madame Malakin's, I had grown three centimetres since the beginning of the previous term year. We met to have breakfast together first... She had just returned from a holiday to Tasmania with her parents and, you know, we had a lot to catch up on..."

"How old were your brothers?"

"Aengus and Elcmar were twins. They were three years younger – had only just turned fourteen when they passed. They would have begun their third year at Hogwarts, I my last."

"It must have been hard for you," Hermione remarked in a whisper.

"It most certainly was," Minerva found herself admitting. "When I came home in the evening around seven, there were a bunch of Aurors waiting for me to show up, guarding what remained of my family's home. They informed me I was not permitted entry. There had been an attack and my parents and brothers..." Her breath hitched as she shook her head. She had banned most of these memories from her head for they hurt too much... even after so many years she could not bring herself to speak of it.

Intuitively, Hermione laid her hand upon Minerva's injured one. "That's okay," she murmured. Minerva didn't have to tell her – it was already obvious how much it still pained the elder witch to talk about it. She could live with not being told, having a pretty good idea about how she would feel if their roles were reversed. If anything, she should be glad that Minerva had shared so much... She was a very private person after all.

She watched as Minerva cast her gaze down again and gently closed the book. Hermione understood, remaining quiet as the elder woman stared off in the distance again without actually really looking at anything.

Pictures always had the capability to capture memories and allow us to revel in them again later. Sometimes they made you relive the emotions you felt then – the happiness, the... anguish. And sometimes they just made you sad, because pictures immortalize the past... and a lot could change over time. The reasons for the happiness then may not be able to be obtained anymore. The person with whom the moments are shared with may not be there anymore...

"I should probably leave you to the rest of your day," Hermione announced, suddenly feeling like an intruder. Any comfort or attention for Minerva's sadness would not be warranted. No words would be of comfort anyway. Some things you just could not understand no matter how good you could imagine things and place yourself in another position in your head. Some things you just couldn't understand until you experienced them yourself.

The walls Minerva McGonagall had built around herself had crumbled momentarily with the memories and even though Hermione desperately wanted to be let in and be able to comfort her, Minerva was already turning into herself again, no longer really cognizant of Hermione. As if she'd realized her walls were crumbling... as if an alarm had gone off in her head telling her to forge them back together as soon as possible. It was too soon, and Hermione knew that.

She got up from her seat and eyed Minerva with worry. "I'm sorry," she whispered, somehow feeling that she and her innate curiosity were the reason for Minerva's wave of sadness.

"You don't have to go," Minerva brokenly stated while casting her gaze up to Hermione.

"Yes," Hermione whispered, leaning down to peck the older woman's cheek with her lips, "I do," she breathed in her ear before pulling back and letting her eyes connect with teal ones. "If I want to move my things – and the children's – on Sunday then I still have a lot of work to do. Also, I still have to get Rose's birthday present. I haven't been able to pick it up in Muggle London yet."

Minerva nodded. "Yes, I should probably continue my spring cleaning as well... I haven't gotten far since the ah... accident."

Hermione smirked. "Simple way of putting it," she said and smiled at Minerva before gliding to the door.

"Simple works for now – it'll be complicated enough once the Prophet or someone else discovers it," Minerva commented as Hermione's hand gripped the doorknob. _Rita Skeeter, for sure._

"Yes well, it will just be a matter of _time_ till it is uncovered," Hermione said, smiling one last time before opening the door. "Good day," she stated over her shoulder, before stepping through.

"Good day..." Minerva replied, then sighed as the door fell shut. They _would_ find out sooner rather than later. Ever since she had retired and lived most of the time in her rooms, the attention had strayed off of her a great deal, and it was as if with the position, the woman behind it was gone, too. However, she was certain something like this would more than rouse the Wizarding communities' attention. Because she wasn't intending on spending her forties locked away in her rooms. She had already been there and done that.

This time around, would be nothing if not – different.

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><p>I certainly owe <em>asouldreams <em>for all her effort.


	28. Chapter 27

Chapter 26

As usual, it was apparent that Arthur and Molly had done a little effort the more for one of their grandchildren; paper lights in the shapes of butterflies hanging from posts while long tables adorned the yard. Molly glanced up from laying the last tablecloth as Hermione walked up to her. "Do you need any help?" Hermione asked politely.

"Oh no, dear," Molly said, looking up at her ex-daughter-in-law with a smile. "I'm just done." She leaned in to hug Hermione tightly and kiss her cheek in greeting like usual. Hermione knew that Molly had disliked the divorce between her and Ron more than she let on. She was grateful for the fact that both Molly and Arthur had never blamed her for the divorce and had always remained civil. Molly and she had had an honest conversation about the matter the week after she had announced that Ron and she were separating on a trial period to figure things out before proceeding farther. Molly had understood then, and in her own way she had been supportive through the entire process.

She vividly recalled the day that she had told Ron. The conversation had not been very unlike the one she had had with him two days earlier. He had shot up and yelled as well, his ears turning their particular scarlet color like usual when his emotions rose high, whether stemming from embarrassment or anger.

_"Ron," Hermione said before Ron had the chance to raise his annoyance with her having turned off the television. She had just come down from putting the children to bed. He had given both of them a kiss for goodnight and a hug before resuming watching the television, watching Muggle football. "We have to talk." She stated while leaning against the closet, facing him. _

_Ron's eyes rolled as he suspected she was most likely going to lecture him about not helping enough in the household again. She had reprimanded him that morning upon walking into the bathroom while he had been taking a shower, having found his clothes carelessly thrown on the floor instead of sorted neatly into the washing basket. He had said he would do it after his shower, but she had doubted him and had told him that he could at least do that for not having to contribute much else._

_Hermione instinctively wrapped her arms around herself feeling a chill run down her spine that had nothing to do with temperature. "Ron, I would like to try live separately so that we both can think things through on our own. Neither of us has been happy in this relationship for a while, and I feel the urge to figure out what I want and need from our relationship; and I think you having the same time to do that will be beneficial to us. Maybe if we both really know what we want and need, we'll be happier._

_"What do you mean 'what I want and need'? That's me, isn't it?" Ron cried out, shooting upright. "I mean, you're my wife. You're supposed to want and need me like I want and need you. Or is there someone else I don't know about?" By the time Ron had finished his query his ears had been scarlet, and Hermione had been more convinced than ever that a break would do them good. _

Ron always seemed to think the worst of everything and as time passed, that trait had only gotten worse. Maybe some time apart would enable him to see things back in perspective again. It hadn't. In the beginning she had still been convinced that they'd be able to begin anew, find commonalities and shared interests; but as the months passed, that feeling dissipated. And after eleven months she had told him that she saw no way of them getting back together again, that it was over between them. The divorce had been set up and been finalized the following month.

Yesterday had been the first day in years she truly had no obligations, spending the day shopping in Diagon Alley before noon and in Muggle London in the afternoon. She had truly enjoyed shopping on her own and had bought a few new things for herself and a few things for Hugo and Rose that would come in handy with tomorrow's move: new sheets, towels... While in Muggle London, she had found Rose's birthday gift; a huge box with pastel and primary colors, oil based crayons, paints, pencils and a sundry of other items enabling her to draw. Her little girl had always enjoyed drawing and had been pleading for a professional kit. Additionally, she bought a half dozen new canvas and other mediums for Rose to draw or paint on. She spent most of her free time drawing and such anyway.

"Are you alright, dear?" Molly asked at the faraway look in Hermione's eyes.

"Oh, yes, thank you," Hermione said, shaking her head and directing her gaze at Molly, following her inside.

"Go ahead," Molly said, turning to the stove. "They're all gathered in the living room."

Hermione nodded and found herself pausing at the doorframe, about ready to push it open. While she couldn't wait to spend time with her children and friends, she loathed to see Ron so soon after their latest row and the subject behind it. Stilling her nerves, and hoping for the best, Hermione stepped through the door to find Ron and their two children on the chesterfield, Harry, Ginny and their children on the opposite, with George and his family and Bill and his spread out across the rest of the room. The other siblings probably had conflicting commitments; Charlie still in Romania and Percy and his family having gone on a holiday to Germany to visit his in-laws. Arthur was sitting in a reclining chair laughing at his grandchildren's antics. She took a deep breath. "Hi, everyone."

Immediately a chorus of greetings arose as Hermione entered. Her eyes momentarily lingered on Ron, whose gaze fell to the carpet, lips remaining pinched together. She momentarily closed her eyes before walking up to where everyone was gathered; hoping that Ron would keep his mouth shut and act like an adult tonight.

And he did, for a while.

He kept to it... until...

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><p>I certainly owe <em>asouldreams <em>for all her effort.


	29. Chapter 28

Chapter 27

"Daddy, look what Mommy got me!" Rose was bouncing with utter happiness as she opened the wooden case and indeed found it entirely filled with colored pencils, marker pens, professional chalk for sketching, oil crayons and small tubes of paint in more colors than she could actually count. This drawing set was even greater than the one she had seen when shopping with Granny Jean!

Ron barely redirected his gaze, just mumbling something intelligible causing Rose's little face to fall at her father's lack of response. Ginny, sitting beside her youngest brother, shared a brief look with her husband, who nodded almost unnoticeably. "Anyone feel like a game?" Harry announced, and at once all the children turned to him. He cajoled Rose and the rest of the children with him, the group merrily laughing, and he winked at Hermione before setting off to the cornfield that still belonged to his in-laws – soon enough no children were left at the table anymore. Bill and Fleur smiled amusedly after Harry and the herd of children running after him.

"Could you even for a short second act like you actually care?" Ginny hissed to her brother in a low voice once the children were not within earshot anymore. "She's your daughter, and it is her birthday. You could at least show a little interest, instead of sitting here downing whiskey after whiskey."

Ron redirected his sour gaze toward his sister. "What I do and don't do is none of your damn business!" Ron bellowed so loud that their mother, seated at the other end of the table, was sure the children heard it.

"Oh, Ron, don't be so childish," Ginny said in a tone that resembled her mother's when she was lecturing her children. A chair away, Hermione's breath hitched. Ron usually became less tight lipped after a bit of alcohol – that was common knowledge amongst the family.

And with his temper flaring, she furiously hoped that he would not... but from the moment his steel blue gaze landed upon hers, her stomach plummeted because she knew that all hope would be vain. She could already feel the tears burning against the backs of her eyes as he smashed his glass against the wall, shards of glass flying off everywhere as the remaining alcohol from the glass streaked down the paint. Molly's rapid intervention kept anyone from being hurt, Vanishing the glass shards, but it only seemed to make him angrier than he already was. His ears turned scarlet as he fumed at his sister, whose gaze upon him remained placid.

"Ron..." Arthur tried, slowly rising from his seat as well like his wife had, hoping to calm his son.

"If that's how you raise your children, I'm glad that there's Hermione, who at least tries to teach them manners, social norms, and the like that you obviously don't get," Ginny goaded.

"Ron..." Molly said harshly, watching as her son reached for his wand. Molly's hand had remained on hers after the glass burst, her son's disposition seeming as if Ron would hex his sister. However, he turned toward his ex-wife, pointing his wand at her, before directing his gaze toward his mother and father. It seemed as if he didn't know whom to hex first. He seemed disoriented and downright dangerous.

"I've always been the least wanted; the least successful of all your children," he spat.

George stood, voice sincere. "Ron, you know that isn't true..."

Ignoring his brother just as well, Ron continued on talking over George, "I never was good enough... I wasn't the daughter you wanted. Nor the fallen hero of a son, or the exotic dragon trainer, or the famous proprietor in Diagon Alley…" His eyes slanted as he turned to his sister, "And let me just tell you that she's not much better of a hero for our children than I am..."

Hermione's heart raced at that, knowing that her secret was seconds away from being spilled. "Please Ron..." she tried, shaking her head at him, "don't..."

"I'm curious as to how the children will react, Hermione," he said, turning towards her then, "when they hear that you've gone ahead and done it all for your best benefit without even mentioning it to them and are uprooting them to live behind stone walls... that they're getting a brother or sister, and their mother is still too stupid and steadfast as to do what's sensible and just reunite with me. You truly believe you'll be able to do it alone?"

Tears formed in Hermione's eyes as she reached for the edge of the table, holding onto it tightly. "I'm doing all basically alone now as well and have been for years, so how's getting back with you really going to help me or them?"

"Oh, don't go tell me you're so much better than me. You work all the time."

She would have preferred to have taken care of their discord in a less public way, but who knows... maybe the ruling hormones had something to do with it. "I want to give them everything, and I'm willing to work hard for it. The times that we do have together, I cherish. When they are with you, you act like they don't even exist, only noticing when they don't keep themselves busy and berating them for bothering you. I wonder, when was the last time you told either of them you loved them? Do you see the disappointment in their eyes when you don't even give them a smile, when you don't pay any attention to them... when you would rather watch the damn television than spend time with them?

"Our children are of great importance to me, as are their opinions. However, if I'd remained at the Ministry, the situation wouldn't have gotten better either. I would have continued to barely see them, and that's not what I want. I don't want to have them grow up before I know it and wonder where time went – miss out on it all. The job at Hogwarts just fell into my lap at the right moment." A humorless laugh escaped Ron at that.

"Listen, Ron... I was hoping to tell them today, and take them with me while moving my stuff to Hogwarts tomorrow given their positive reaction. I'd never have done _that_ without informing them..." Her tone was hurt more than anything. "Either way, I knew that I shouldn't have counted on your discretion... or rather your lack thereof, Ronald. You just gave me yet again another reason for me not to get back together with you."

"You're pushing it," he said, a hex slipping from his lips.

"RON!" Molly yelled.

Barely, Hermione managed to deflect his hex, stumbling backward from the energy she needed to produce the shield, not having been prepared for it. As her wand arm lowered and the shield fell away, she reached for her lower abdomen, still holding onto the edge of the table with her other hand. Her eyes fell shut as she shakily exhaled. A wave of nausea washed over her as her lower abdomen painfully contracted.

Ginny rushed to the other woman's side, supporting her, momentarily forgetting about her brother. "Are you all right?"

The brunette faintly nodded as she tried to gather herself. Everyone remained quiet – even Ron. After a few minutes, Hermione straightened, piercing Ron's disbelieving gaze. "I don't know what happened to the man you were, but I can't be with the man you've become."

She slowly turned to Molly, who still seemed astonished by her son's behavior, having tried to hex her into oblivion. "Please, tell Rosie I'm sorry for being unable to stay... tell her that I still had to fix something." Tears blurred her vision as she continued. "I will answer all your questions, but I can't deal with this just now."

Molly quietly nodded in response.

She turned back to Ron, "I'm coming to get the children tomorrow morning at nine, as we agreed. Please make sure they're ready." As much as she enjoyed the Weasleys' company, she just couldn't stay – not today, with so much said and left unsaid, and her ex-husband... She couldn't, with everyone staring at her with a look akin to pity. She needed time away. Time to heal. Time to sort her life.

Hermione looked at Ginny then, reached for her hand and squeezed it gently with all apology and gratefulness she could possibly muster. Despite the rather shocking news, Ginny was still there by her side, like always. With a wave of her wand, Hermione summoned her belongings, then moved to the perimeter beyond which she could Apparate.

She could hear her daughter's laughter, her eyes momentarily closed while letting the musical notes ring over her and calm her turbulent feelings. Her tears threatened to spill. However, she couldn't stay there a moment longer, like she couldn't have stayed in her marriage back then either.

She disappeared, hoping that while she loved her children and while she would never ever deny her responsibility as a mother and tried her hardest not to stray from their routine – as it must be complicated enough for their young children – she would be up for getting them in the morning.

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><p>I certainly owe <em>asouldreams <em>for all her effort.


	30. Chapter 29

Chapter 28

The nausea that had washed over her already at the Weasleys only intensified due to Apparating. By the time she stood by the gates to the fabled magical institution, the tears were streaming down her cheeks. She stood for a moment just eying the large, seven-storey high castle with its many towers and turrets. Her hand moved over her lower abdomen as another shred of pain passed through it. The pain hadn't disappeared since having left the Weasleys, but it seemed to get worse again. She needed to sit, to lie…

As she cast her eyes down from the castle and slowly began to move toward the gates, with a pang she realized that the castle itself wasn't her sanctuary, but the person within provided her the calm and rest she so desperately needed… and she needed it often lately. She needed Minerva more frequently lately… Minerva was the person she ran to – the person who would always be there for her and had a way of making her feel better without even seeming to have to try. She hadn't run to anyone for near a decade, as she hadn't found reliable support with Ron. And as she relied more into Minerva, she slowly began feeling lighter as well. It was as if Minerva could effectively pull the worries and the weight of them away from her. She had become a balm that helped to ease her weary soul.

Minerva had always been an important person in her life while in Hogwarts – the person to look up to and confide in… yet that she was returning to feeling like that toward her after all those years in which they'd barely spoken – let alone in-depth – scared her somewhat as well. It seemed to return stronger than it ever was – she seemed to grow to depend more on her than ever even though the fair amount of years she'd gained since back then, and the strength of their burgeoning bond worried her.

The thought of it all suddenly dissolving like it had like after Hogwarts was unthinkable. She didn't think if it happened again, she would be able to deal with it. There was no Ron on who she could depend even though in another way now… Then again, there was no Ron to be entered in the variety of matters that had separated them again to begin with either. There was a child again, but there would be no Ron. Never would there be a Ronald Weasley and her again.

Reaching over for the iron gates and curling her fingers around a bar tightly, the tears came more abundantly. She didn't think she could continue up to the castle anymore. The pain in her lower abdomen became possibly even more constricting, but as long as she didn't feel something trickle between her thighs, it might all still be fine… Hermione hoped as she began to lose the battle to remain standing.

The moment Hermione Granger's fingers touched upon the cold iron from the gates, Minerva Gaia McGonagall felt the shift in magic, although the younger witch had not entered the domain yet. However, that wasn't what made her rise to her feet and turn her head to look from the window, though. She had been reading a book on the couch when she suddenly had felt something prickling along her neck… something familiar, somehow.

Her decision was made in a matter of seconds as she noticed the woman lethargically bracing herself against the gates of Hogwarts. Especially where her hand was resting alarmed Minerva. Turning again, she leapt, morphing into a cat, the door flowing aside on its own accord to let her through as she sprinted faster than she had in years through the familiar corridors. Minerva felt her muscles burning in her hind legs as she ran, highlighting how rarely she changed and exercised as her Animagus anymore, but she could care less.

She had only one thing in mind, or rather one person.

Hermione.

She felt a burning need to get to Hermione.

There must be a reason why she was there instead of at her daughter's birthday celebration. Something serious must have happened for her to have left – for her to be standing at the gates of Hogwarts instead of remaining at the Burrow…

An alarm went off in her head. She'd never have come here unless she needed urgent help of some kind.

She passed across stairs and through hallways without thinking – a map of Hogwarts having imprinted in her mind decades ago. As she finally reached the main hallway – too long in her opinion – the large oak doors seemed to feel her urgency and began opening themselves on their own accord the moment she landed on the bottom step. By the time she reached the oak doors, they were open wide enough to let her dart through.

Olive eyes found Hermione's form and remained trained on the younger witch as she continued to sprint over the pathway leading there. She didn't think the brunette had noticed her until a few meters from where she stood, Minerva's shape grew and morphed into a woman again.

"Minerva…" it escaped her and a small smile weakly formed upon her lips as she realized the elder witch's presence. _Minerva was always there. Minerva would make it all fine as always._ With that last thought Hermione Granger slumped into a welcome unconsciousness where nothing hurt anymore.

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><p>I certainly owe <em>asouldreams <em>for all her effort.


	31. Chapter 30

Chapter 29

Hermione's eyelids fluttered at the faint light dancing across her face and the touch of something cool against her forehead, yet warmth remained, too. Vestiges of sleep clamped at her legs as she forced her eyes to open, and the blurry, wooden rafters and stone ceiling – Hogwarts' distinct structures – came into focus. Slowly, she turned her head to the side, and a de-aged Minerva eyed her with worry. "How long have I been unconscious?" she rasped, clearing her throat as the bits and pieces of her memories connected.

"Two hours. I've taken you to my rooms and alerted Poppy. She stated I should let you rest." Green eyes scanned over Hermione's features, "and that if you were still in pain upon waking, I should take you straight to St. Mungo's." Minerva leaned forward slightly as she added the question, "How are you feeling?" worry prevalently written upon her face and a shadow lacing her eyes.

Hermione's brows knitted together as she appeared to ponder it, her right hand moving over her belly. "I'm not in pain," she stated after a moment.

A slight smile made its way across Minerva's lips. "I'm glad."

"Me, too," Hermione quietly admitted. "I thought that…" The sentence went unfinished, but it didn't need be to be finished. Minerva understood. She herself had thought, had feared the same. Hand moving down further slightly, her fingers found another pair, unusually long and feminine. Slightly turning her head, Hermione indeed confirmed Minerva's hand to be resting atop of her belly as well. Once Minerva realized that Hermione had caught where her hand was lying, she immediately intended to retract, but Hermione was faster, purposefully reaching for the other woman's hand and taking a hold of it – forcing it to remain where it had been.

Both women's gazes lifted simultaneously, and they might have laughed in any other situation. They merely smiled now. Minerva looked away after just a few more seconds, gaze redirecting to their entwined hands. She felt Hermione's squeeze and squeezed back very gently.

From her position, Hermione studied the de-aged Minerva. Whereas the woman was one and the same as the one before the accident with the Time-Turner, somehow she could not see the older Minerva sitting there and doing the same. Both this appearance and the older had a firmness… seldom replaced by softer lines – yet this de-aged Minerva, though containing the same mind and having gone through the same wars minus its physical effects, seemed less battered and less damaged by the hands of those that had lusted for power. Of course she had no clue that Minerva might be softer and gentler because the person in question was her.

"How long did you imagine being able to hide it?"

Minerva's eyes lifted as a look of chagrin passed her eyes. "As long as remotely possible."

Hermione merely nodded, eyes closing. She was not in a good enough state of mind to ask further, and she had never been a prying kind of person. If Minerva wanted to talk about it, she would… at least, Hermione hoped. Silence stretched between them for several long minutes.

Minerva quietly ran her thumb over the younger woman's hand, gathering enough courage to ask what needed be asked. "Hermione, what happened?"

"Ron…" Hermione whispered without opening her eyes. Then as they opened and fell upon the elder witch, she swallowed – trying to swallow the tears she felt pressing against the backs of her eyes. "He's ruined everything. I should have anticipated him not being able to keep quiet about the new baby."

"Do you regret telling him?" Minerva gently inquired.

Hermione shook her head. "No. He needed to know, especially being the child's father… That atop of the news I had quit my job at the Ministry and was coming to teach here maybe was too much, though." She sighed, "I don't regret telling him, rather his reaction. I regret having hoped in vain. Maybe not having waited somewhat longer, but… I'm quite sure the longer I'd have waited, the angrier it would have made him. I just…" She unconsciously tightened her hold on Minerva's hand. "All I know is that that is not the man I fell in love with. If so, I cannot believe I had been so blind for so very long."

Minerva, not considering herself to be the expert in relationships, remained silent. "Have you heard more from Kingsley?" she wondered, trying to change the subject – she had not missed the tears shimmering in mocha eyes. She didn't want to push, though.

Hermione swallowed a ball of emotion while shaking her head. "No. My contract stated I could chose my hours freely and that I could go without consequences if wanted. No notices or anything – I'll be paid the same loan until I've got something else, so only this month. I'm assuming that he'll Owl me if someone else has taken the job or so, though… or maybe beg me to return if he can't find another."

A coy grin passed over Minerva's features. "He'll have to do a lot to get someone equal to you."

A pained smiled crossed Hermione's lips, before her strained voice broke the momentary silence that stretched between them. "I can't help but wonder if I've done enough. Maybe I should have gone to a relationship therapist with him, even though I'm almost certain Ron would never have gone with… me…" Her robust vocabulary faltered her as images of how Ron had wanted to attack her and their unborn child crashed through her mind again… and the fact that she now had a whole lot to tell the Weasleys, despite not being ready. In truth, she doubted that she would be ready anytime soon, but it didn't matter – Ron had made the choice for her. It would only be fair to tell them what had happened. She would do it by owl once she felt slightly better, she decided. He had nearly killed his own child, and at that thought, the tears spilled off her lashes and washed over her cheeks.

"Shh," Minerva whispered, her free hand reaching forward to wipe the tears away. "Everything's going to be alright."

"He tried to hex me…" Hermione choked. "Our child… I don't know what went through his head…"

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><p>I certainly owe <em>asouldreams <em>for all her effort.


	32. Chapter 31

Chapter 30

Minerva's concern for the younger woman had not faded, if anything it had become greater as the minutes passed. Half an hour filled with tears and sobs had truly exhausted her – thoroughly so. Minerva didn't quite mind her tears, but she was still glad that the younger woman had fallen asleep… hopefully she would not be disturbed.

As she lay there with her head in the elder witch's lap, otherwise curled up close to the fetal position on the couch, she looked so very innocent and careless. Tenderly, Minerva threaded her fingers through unruly curls, as she quietly gazed upon the woman she had once known as a young adolescent. So much had changed – some for the better and some for the worst.

The flickering torches along the wall indicated that the evening had set in already, and she decided that it would be best if Hermione remained at the castle for the night, and hopefully get a good night's sleep there. Minerva slowly slipped off of the couch, supporting Hermione's head with a hand until the last second before gently lowering it to the soft couch. She barely moved at all.

With a wave of her wand, a charm settled on Hermione. Indeed, as Minerva leaned forward to lift the younger woman up into her arms, she found Hermione hardly weighed more than a feather.

Minerva quietly shifted Hermione in the embrace of her tender arms, trying not to notice how Hermione's body warmth felt against her body as she maneuvered through her living rooms and to the doors leading to the younger woman's personal rooms, which opened of their own accord as Minerva carried her to bed and gently laid her down. With a softly murmured spell, she transfigured her attire into something slightly more comfortable before tucking her under the sheet and blankets. Minerva noticed how Hermione's fingers had already curled around the fabric of her robes as she tried to leave. Reaching upward to pry Hermione's fingers away, Minerva found she couldn't… for Hermione seemed to be holding onto her for dear life. A sigh eschewed from her lips, as Minerva realized that she had no choice but to lay down with Hermione for now.

Lying atop the sheets, Minerva resolved to get to her own rooms upon being able to. Of course, she could free herself if she wanted to, with magic, or any other approach than gentleness… but something in her heart would not let her do it. So she lay there watching as the younger woman continued to sleep, her head lolling to rest upon Minerva's bosom within mere seconds. _Oh well… It would allow her to be right with her in case there were any aftereffects from Ronald's missed hex._ She would be glad enough to have Poppy look over her upon arrival tomorrow evening, though.

After several more minutes, Minerva realized she would not be able to leave so soon as she might have hoped. Minerva quietly waved her wand at her own attire and moved under the covers carefully. She never could have imagined doing something like this with anyone that was not her partner, and she never had really. However, the week had been anything but usual already… and for the moment, she hardly thought about anything else other than Hermione Granger's well-being. She would gladly set her own unease aside if it helped. Soon enough, the soft breathing beside her then, lulled Minerva asleep despite the still rather early hour of eve.

Minerva didn't know just how much later it was that she woke, but a strange feeling of hotness filled her and drug her from her sleep. She could still feel the touch of warmth upon the lower regions of her back. Looking down, Minerva found she had moved onto her side, Hermione having burrowed into her as if wanting to hide or… use her as a shield. Hermione's arm was draped carelessly over her waist … and she suddenly realized where the warm, unknown yet familiar sensation might have come from, Hermione's arm was nestled against her flesh. _How could she not have woken?_

A feeling of panic somehow rose at the realization of whose arm was laying across her waist. Quietly wriggling to the side, Minerva found that unlike earlier, she could free herself and leave without necessarily having to wake Hermione for it. So that's what she did. She did not look back as she slipped from the bed and made for the door to get to her own rooms…

The faint rustling caused Hermione to wake for a few seconds, but what fully woke her then was the loss of the softness underneath her fingertips. Drunken with sleep she could not gather more than a brief flash of Minerva moving through the door. _Soft skin, _she realized_, Minerva's… skin_. Momentarily shocked at her sleepy boldness, Hermione wondered which part of Minerva's velvety skin she might have been touching…

With a moan, she rolled over slowly onto her back, grateful that the pain in her belly had not returned. Meaning... her child would be alright.

Her gaze fluttered across the room, and despite why and how she had ended here, she hadn't really felt so relaxed in ages… and wondered if Minerva having been right beside her until then could have something to do with it. _It couldn't. That was just ridiculous. It must have been the crying… _she merely continued rationalizing, _the load of emotions suddenly having come from her. The relief, maybe._

_What if it wasn't, though? What if it wasn't mere coincidence?_

Minerva obviously hadn't been very delighted with the position in which she found herself when waking… She wondered what to say or do. Saying that she hadn't meant to was not a lie, but… what if it came to _wanting_? What was going on between her and Minerva… or rather, what was going on with her in regard to Minerva? She was not gay or even bisexual. And Minerva… dear heavens, Minerva had to be perfectly straight. A woman so very beautiful and… feminine could not be anything else…

She realized more than ever that she actually didn't know so much about Minerva, and her previous suppositions regarding Minerva had come from her appearance alone. She had certainly been surprised to hear Minerva talking about her past over the picture album, assuming that being cast back into her previous appearance from a half century prior, must leave… other changes so to speak. _It must have affected her in more than her appearance,_ Hermione knew. Minerva had gone over the incident easily. Maybe her talking about the past was just the confirmation of the fact that despite her behavior, it had affected her just like the same incident would have affected anyone else. Hermione didn't know. She knew so little about the mysterious witch. Too little to assume anything.

Mindful of Minerva's reaction upon waking, Hermione decided that she should do all that was possible to ensure that they would not get into a similar situation again...

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><p>I certainly owe <em>asouldreams <em>for all her effort.


	33. Chapter 32

Chapter 31

Eyelids fluttering against the brightening room in which she found herself waking, Hermione sat up in bed. She still felt utterly exhausted. _However, the children… _she stopped the thought, already not looking forward to Rose asking questions. Her mother heart ached for what Ron had driven her to do only one day prior. She had been afraid of Ron ruining their daughter's birthday party, but… had she not done the same? Had she not been the one to leave without telling her daughter?

Rose wouldn't know how the whole situation had unfolded... nor would she really. She was still so young – too young now to burdened with their adult affairs.

Questions would most certainly follow, though. She was her mother's daughter, after all. Slipping from the bed and taking her wand from the closest night table before moving to the hallway, Hermione realized just how much still had to be said between her and the children. A very honest conversation between the three of them would have to happen – today.

As she passed the doors to where Rose and Hugo's chambers lay, Hermione Grange sincerely hoped that Hogwarts Castle was right in assuming their positive reaction. She sighed.

Moving into the living room, Hermione's eyes fell upon Minerva almost immediately. She was just closing the window, an envelope clutched in her other hand, with her long ebony hair resting over her shoulder as it had the night before. She smiled lightly upon seeing Hermione. "How are you feeling?" she questioned, beginning to walk to the couch, a gesture of her hand inviting Hermione to do the same.

Bare footed, Hermione accepted the unspoken suggestion, crossing to the couch and sitting as Minerva intuitively took the couch opposite. Minerva's eyebrow quirked at the lack of response. Hermione's mouth opened in order to form a reply, finding that she didn't quite know how to say it. Physically, she was… fine. She said so.

Sensing that Hermione was not willing or ready yet to share the more emotional concerns, she offered her the official looking envelope that had just arrived before Hermione. "This just came for you, from the Ministry."

Brow furrowing, Hermione curiously reached forward to accept the letter. _What now? _Hermione thought as she noted Kingsley's distinct wax seal upon turning the envelope over. She slid her nail across it and extracted a letter in the Minister's precise handwriting. Eyes sliding across the contents, Hermione rapidly read through the information contained. "Kingsley seems to have found someone to replace me," Hermione said without relaying more, not looking up from the letter in hand for a few more minutes. As she lowered it, she cast her gaze to where she knew a large clock hung – it was after eight already. She would have a little less than an hour before she would have to go and get the kids at Ron's place. "I have to leave in fifty minutes to get the children," she voiced, to make sure Minerva knew, too.

"I see," Minerva said, noting Hermione's unease. "What about a spot of breakfast then?" Not waiting for Hermione's agreement, she called for her Elf. "Elly?" At once, Elly appeared beside the couch, bowing her head before looking at Minerva questioningly. "Elly, would you please be so kind as to get breakfast for both Hermione and I?"

"Certainly, Mistress," Elly replied, bowing deep before disappearing with a resonating crack.

A few minutes later breakfast for them appeared on the table.

Minerva reached for a crescent and the butter, while Hermione reached for the pot of tea. "Would you like some?" she questioned. Upon Minerva's polite confirmation, she first filled Minerva's cup, then her own. Raising the cup to her lips then sipping from it, Hermione quietly closed her eyes… savoring the taste of her morning tea and trying to enjoy it, before less enjoyable matters needed be addressed between her and the children. And hopefully, nothing further would develop between she and Ron as her thoughts returned to her current predicament.

She had felt like she had had no choice but to resign from the Ministry. She hadn't been happy there for years, after all. The crux of the situation, however, was that her new job entailed so many changes. If it hadn't been for the job at Hogwarts, the children would never have felt much of a difference, with the exception of course of Hermione being home more often – or that was the intended goal, at least. However, working at Hogwarts would mean living there as well… for one particular reason. That would be the most challenging subject.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Minerva's question interrupting her thoughts caused Hermione's eyes to blink open and look at the former Headmistress once more.

"I'm fine," she murmured rather unconvincingly. "However, I was just thinking about maybe going by to see Molly and Arthur first." She lowered her cup and held it between both hands. "I'm not very hungry either way, and I feel like I owe them. They deserve to know the whole story." She sighed, continuing on, "I'll have to tell the children as well, so maybe it would be best to get it all over with at once."

Minerva nodded in support as she pushed on, carefully so. "Have you decided how you'll tell the children yet?"

Hermione's head shook, then an idea struck her… and she began to nod her head instead. "I believe I've got an idea." Rising from the couch, the young woman set her half full cup down on the table. "I'm just going to freshen up a tad," she said, before sweeping from the room, leaving Minerva wondering if Hermione was going to be alright this morning.

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><p>I certainly owe <em>asouldreams <em>for all her effort, and all those who have taken some of their time to review!

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><p>Please review... I'm interested in your thoughts!<p> 


	34. Chapter 33

Chapter 32

As Elly disappeared with the remnants of breakfast, Minerva quietly slipped the opened envelope from between the folds of her robes. Whereas she had never been particularly overweight, she had had to adjust her robes to fit her more youthful appearance. Over the years, she had lost a tad of her curves and had been even skinnier in later decades – too skinny, maybe. She did not mind to be slightly curvier again.

Barely having been able to get further than sliding the distinct wax seal, Minerva finally got to read through Poppy's reply. She had only just Owled one of her best companions about the accident with the Time-Turner a bit before Hermione's arrival after the fight with Ron the night before. Minerva had been quite worried to say the least. She was very glad that the younger woman's pain seemed to have subsided. Poppy's reply after the second letter concerning Hermione's precarious situation had included a small note saying that she would take more time to properly answer her previous letter.

The promised owl had come just before the one of Kingsley with the letter directed to Hermione.

_Minerva –_

_I apologize for my somewhat tardy reply on the Time-Turner accident matter. However, your second letter yesterday seemed urgent, and before responding to your first letter, I wanted to look through some information concerning the situation you described or anything similar. There's something that nearly immediately struck me upon reading your letter for the second time._

_First off, I'm glad that you've informed me. I'm doing my best to gather just what happened, but I fear that despite somehow understanding the effects you described and despite having a good idea of how you must look like at this point (certainly aided by the fact that I've known you since adolescence and still vividly remember how jealous I was that in your early forties, you still had that shining ebony hair while my own strands had begun to get gray quite early… but – that aside), how it exactly happened still confuses me. _

_After what I've gathered from your best descriptions, I agree that the process seems irreversible. I'm sure you haven't forgotten the Ministry needs be informed of such things, though I get your need to first settle this with yourself. Undoubtedly, I would do the same._

_Now, the thing that immediately struck me after rereading your letter… I worry about the possible consequences, since you described the damages to your body done at the point in time you've been cast back to being there now, namely the injury with your ankle. It leads me to an uncertain theory, but since there's no information available about the kind of accidental magic you've gone through, I've not been able to test it in any way. So, we'll just have to see how things evolve with you. I won't be getting into my theory now, for I'm not certain whether or not I'm right about this and don't want to cause additional stress if it might not be necessary. However, I implore you to inform me right away if there's any inexplicable bodily damage in the either near or farther future._

_For now, I'm looking forward to seeing you again after the holidays… though I'm quite sure it'll be a bit of a shock to see you as you were back in the late sixties._

_Love,  
>Poppy<em>

Minerva had a very good idea of the direction in which Poppy's mind was running, especially by her expressed imploration for Minerva to come to her right away if there was any inexplicable bodily damage she encountered. She herself had not really thought about the possibility, though it would make sense if, based on the ankle injury being there, her body would go through all bodily changes of the coming… _past _years once more. She sighed deep as she refolded the letter. It would mean that all painful inflammations and other injuries in those years would need to be relived again. She sincerely hoped that Poppy was mistaken, because of all the serious injuries she had ever been afflicted with; she was not looking forward to going through the pain of the Stunner incident once more.

Rising to her feet, she moved in the direction of the door, leaving the letter on the table by the couch. For the first time in quite many years, she went to the library. She had rarely revealed herself in the castle over the last few years, not willing to let others see her as an elderly, frail woman – since that was undoubtedly how they would see her. Especially since once upon a time she had been considered by many the greatest witch of her age and had been capable of so much…

As she reached the base of the staircase, a small smile crept over the elder witch's lips, and launching herself forward, she morphed into her alternate cat shape, sprinting the rest of her way over to the library successfully despite not having been 'into it' for quite some time and despite the pain that coursed through her ankle still. Yesterday's Transformation had been an emergency… Most of the men, women and children – especially those who knew and recognized Minerva… which was in the first occasion nearly everyone and in the second still quite many – occupying the portraits and painting hanging on the walls of the castle looked after her in wonder.

Minerva could have laughed as she morphed back into her human shape once more by the door of the library. She wasn't even breathless.

Walking over to the restricted section, the former Headmistress sincerely hoped that she, unlike Poppy, would be able to find something about Time-Turner accidents. Her first guess was the restricted section.

Letting her eyes slide over the titles on the backs of the books slowly, Minerva dragged a few books from the shelves which she suspected held a similar situation. She was fairly certain, that the exact same accident would not be described anywhere. It had been an accident, after all. Carrying the small pile of books manually to the table close by, Minerva seated herself, sighing. The chances of something being mentioned were small, but she could hope at least. Reaching for the first book atop the pile, she got interrupted by a most familiar voice from behind her.

"So, it is true what they said."

A smile involuntarily spread across her face as she immediately recognized the voice despite not having heard it in many years. Without turning in her chair to where she knew the portrait from which he must be speaking hung, she replied, "Who said what exactly, Albus?"

"You know what I mean," Albus Dumbledore replied, looking over his half-moon spectacles while taking in her appearance.

Turning toward the frame in which her former best companion had wedged himself beside a fat horse, she said, "I'm assuming the portraits have been talking despite there being none in my personal rooms?" She quirked her eyebrow – a not so unfamiliar gesture. She did not wait for his reply, but nodded and confirmed his not so uncertain suspicions. "Yes. If they've mentioned me having had a small accident with my old Time-Turner, they're correct."

"Small?" Albus repeated disbelievingly, letting his eyes slide over her youthful appearance.

Minerva's eyes twinkled. "Yes, Albus. Small."

They remained quiet for several heartbeats before his gravelly voice broke the stillness. "I'm glad to see you again. I've… missed you, the conversations we often had even after death."

Minerva's reply came with a thicker cadence and after a few moments in silence. "Yes," she said. "I've missed…" She never really finished. After a few long seconds of being unable to find the right word to pinpoint so many emotions in one or a few words, she merely smiled apologetically. It wasn't that she couldn't be herself with Albus. If there ever had been anyone she had been most honest with, it was Albus. Despite the lack of interaction between them in the last few years, it wasn't necessarily that this had Minerva being unable to really voice it all. Her thoughts about what had happened were all just so jumbled. She felt like she was given another chance, but despite knowing what she had always missed and getting the chance to pursue it now, it all seemed not so easy. There was the matter about informing the Ministry and then the rest of the world about the accident, if those two couldn't be equated. Most of all there was the confusion, the surrealism even in Wizarding World of one's ninety-four-year-old self being cast back in a body that was fifty years younger. The discrepancy between what one's exterior had been through opposed to one's interior.

"What are you looking for, Minerva?" Albus' question pulling her from her reverie as he nodded toward the stack of books piled on the table at which she sat.

Minerva's eyes briefly trailed toward the books before redirecting to her former and maybe still best companion. "I'm trying to do some research about accidents with Time-Turners. I'm hoping to garner some information about what to expect. Poppy raised an interesting aspect…" Upon seeing his look of question, she added, "When the time returned in me opposed to me returning in the time, I was returned to my appearance from the summer of '69, determined by the severe injury on my ankle. Do you recall it?"

Albus nodded, seeing through what Poppy and Minerva both had as well right away. "She and you fear that you'll have to relive every bodily change as well."

Minerva nodded, turning toward the book. "It seems… surreal," she said, "though the time returning in a human being seems just as surreal. I don't quite know how possible it seems, but if Poppy's theory fits, and I'll have to relive the four Stunners… I barely made it that time; I only made it by coincidence almost. While my body would be the same, my mind would be so much older. I don't know how much the age of my mind and soul will contribute to my survival or non-survival if it happens again, but it would be madness to believe I could live through it again either way. I would have to be very, very lucky."

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><p>I certainly owe <em>asouldreams <em>for all her effort, and all those who have taken some of their time to review!

* * *

><p>Please review... I'm interested in your thoughts!<p> 


	35. Chapter 34

Chapter 33

Hermione was very glad that Molly and Arthur had taken it well as they had. Molly and Arthur had been understanding about her decisions to keep the child even though she would not be reconciling with Ron, and about her switching her job at the Ministry for the one at Hogwarts. They had known that Hermione had been working herself too hard as of late, even to the point of barely seeing her children. Who hadn't known about it?

"Right," Hermione voiced once they stood on the doorstep. Ron had barely spoken to her, but she didn't mind. The children had been ready to go as she had asked, so she had not needed to stay a minute longer than necessary at any rate for which she was… eternally grateful. Her heart, however, hammered in her chest at what she still had to relay now to her children. She could only hope for her conversation with the children to go as well as the one with Molly and Arthur had, though she was definitely twice as nervous now as before.

She stretched both hands in order for Hugo and Rose to hold onto one each. "We're going to visit someone," she said, looking down upon both of her children.

"Aren't we going to see Granny Jean and Grandpa then?" Hugo asked.

"We will in the afternoon," Hermione gently replied. "However, first…"

"Oh, are we going to Apparate?" Rose interrupted, voice laden with excitement.

Despite herself, Hermione just had to smile at Rose's obvious desire for knowledge. She recognized so much of herself in her daughter. "Yes," Hermione confirmed.

"Where to?" Hugo asked.

"You'll see."

A crack sounded upon their disappearance. Mere seconds later the threesome stood in Hogsmeade, from a mere walking distance to Hogwarts Castle. You could already see the many turrets from far away. It somehow made the word 'home' come to Hermione's mind.

She looked down worriedly upon her children. This had been their first time Apparating, and most people vomited then. "Everything alright?" she asked, the question directed at both of her children. Neither of them had said anything. Maybe she should have used a Portkey…

"That felt sooo weird," Hugo finally spoke. Rose nodded in agreement with him.

"No nausea?" Hermione asked just to make sure. Neither child shook their head upon her question, easing Hermione's worry already. She had always been good at Apparating, even in stressful circumstances, and was thankful that her children's first exposure to Apparition had gone well.

"Mom, where are we?" Hugo questioned, as Hermione began walking, the children following instinctively. They were both so very busy gawking at the strange shops in Hogsmeade that they failed to notice the looming castle, which grew larger with every step.

It made Hermione smile. "We're going to visit someone," she said, repeating what she'd replied before Apparating. She just hoped this would be the right approach. However, if they were going to share rooms with her and Minerva during the holidays when the children were not with Ron…

Small gasps and a sudden though expected tug on her arms stopped her ruminations, as her children gazed in wide-eyed fascination at Hogwarts. It was a look she was sure adorned her face many, many years ago.

"You've Apparated us to Hogwarts!" Rose exclaimed.

"That's right," Hermione said, nodding with her head toward the rest of the path leading up to the gate that gave entrance to the enchanted castle. They began to walk again, and she continued on. "We're going to visit someone at Hogwarts today. I would like to introduce you to her before I tell you both something."

"A secret?" Hugo questioned.

Hermione smiled, shaking her head slightly. "Yes, a secret of sorts."

The remainder of the walk continued on in silence, with Rose and especially Hugo looking around them in wonder. Rose found that Hogwarts looked so different yet so similar to when there were pupils at it. She couldn't quite say what or how.

As the large oaken doors opened for them, Hermione continued in a soft tone, without halting or looking at the children, "We're going to visit Professor McGonagall. She used to be my Head of House when I was your age and used to teach Transfiguration. When I returned for my seventh year after the war, she became Headmistress." Looking aside to Rose, who had opened her mouth to say something, she added, having anticipated this reaction, "She's been retired for a few years, since before you attended Hogwarts. You've seen her…" _or rather an older version of her, _"on pictures, I'm sure."

As Hermione stopped by the door leading to Minerva's and possibly soon her rooms as well, of course given the children's positive reaction on the upcoming changes, she raised her hand to knock. When she could hear no sounds coming from within let alone saw the door opened after a few seconds, Hermione knocked again. Still no reaction followed. Hermione's brow furrowed. _Where could she be? Maybe Professor Flitwick would know, if he himself was at the castle. He must be very busy with the new school year coming ridiculously close again… _Turning on her heel in order to go and ask Filius, she was surprised by the appearance of Nearly Headless Nick.

A gasp left Hugo's mouth upon the ghost's appearance, not having seen him arrive either. Nearly Headless Nick nodded to him politely, before repeating the gesture to Rose and eventually, Hermione. "Good morning, Hermione."

"Good morning, Sir Nicholas. Would you happen to know where Minerva is?"

"Ah, I've seen her in the library, I believe."

"The library?" Hermione questioned, brow furrowing even deeper.

"Yes, the library," Nearly Headless Nick confirmed. "Would you like me to inform her of your arrival?"

Hermione bit down on her lip in thought. "Eh… No," she decided. "I don't wish to disturb her in her doings. We'll return later. I'll send her an Owl or…"

"Nonsense," a stern authoritarian voice sounded, and as Hermione's head turned in the direction of where the voice had come from, a voice she would know anywhere. And she couldn't help the smile from creeping across her lips at seeing her former professor – but it still shocked her at seeing her so… well, young – though it was refreshing seeing her so lively again, though. Even though it was apparent still that Minerva's ankle was bothering her.

The corner of Minerva's mouth quirked as well upon seeing Hermione and her children standing on either side of her. Understanding passed between them as Minerva neared, leading them into her personal rooms. The door opened by itself at Minerva's close proximity, Hermione and the children following before the door waved closed on its own accord, too.

"Please, sit down," Minerva said, watching as mother and children huddled up on one couch, leaving Minerva to sit down on the one opposite – the one which she usually occupied, it seemed. "I'm sorry for not being here upon your arrival," she apologized. "I was trying to find information, regarding Time-Turner… ah, accidents."

Hermione quietly nodded in understanding.

"Are you Professor McGonagall?" Rose blurted.

"Yes, I am," Minerva confirmed, "though I haven't been a Professor in quite some time."

"Why?" Hugo questioned, his curious nature showing.

An amused twinkle flickered through Minerva's eyes as her gaze briefly caught Hermione's, before she directed her attention back to Hermione's youngest child. "I've not been well for several years," she said, simplifying it all drastically. An eleven-year-old would never get it if she elucidated on it.

"You don't look unwell," Hugo stated the obvious then.

"No," Minerva agreed. "That's right. I'm better now."

"Is that why I never saw you in the castle last year? Were you living… here?" Rose asked, "I don't recall having seen you around."

Minerva was at a momentary loss for words. She didn't quite know how to get it across to the teenage girl. How did you address something like getting old to the youth, who had no idea about all that it held? Luckily, Hermione picked up on it and mentioned, "There's a reason why I've brought you here."

Immediately all of the attention of both her children was directed to her.

"What would you say if I was home more often from now on?"

"You're always busy at the Ministry," Rose said, then added, not wanting to sound rude, "but we know that you have to work." Hugo nodded, agreeing with his elder sister.

"Well…" Hermione said. "What if I said that I resigned at the Ministry and am taking up a job here at Hogwarts?"

Silence followed, in which both children just sat and eyed her in wonder. Their mother had always seemed to be so into the Ministry and so serious with her job there. Hugo eventually questioned, "Are you going to become a professor here?"

"That's the goal," Hermione said, already feeling her heart lift as a smile broke across her children's faces.

"Are you going to teach us as well then?" Rose questioned.

Hermione nodded. "Yes," she said. "I'll be teaching Transfiguration this year, and I'll be sharing these rooms with Professor McGonagall and live here during the school year. So if you both agree, maybe we could move my and some of your things in here this afternoon?"

"That's awesome!" Rose exclaimed.

Hugo, however, seemed exceptionally quiet following his sister's enthusiasm. "What's the matter, little one?" Hermione asked.

"Then we're never going to see Granny Jean and Grandpa anymore," he said, voicing his immediate worries over Hermione's change of work and living.

Hermione should have expected this question. "Hugo, when Daddy and I still lived together, you and Granny Jean and Grandpa still saw each other lots, didn't you? And you still see Granny Weasley and Peepaw lots as well, don't you?" Hugo nodded, agreeing. "Well," Hermione said. "Just because you won't be living with them anymore doesn't have to mean you won't see them anymore. During the school year you'll live at Hogwarts, and during the holidays we'll make sure you get to see your Granny Jean and Grandpa and Daddy and Granny Weasley and Peepaw."

Hugo seemed to think through her statement for a while, before he nodded in agreement. "Okay then," he said, moving ahead, "Will we have rooms here as well? Separate rooms?" he asked. "For when we're with you during the holidays?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, you'll have separate rooms here."

"Can we go and see them?" Hugo asked, already jumping off the couch and looking at his mother with pleading eyes.

"I want a pink room!" Rose exclaimed.

"Ahh…" Hermione said. "In a minute maybe. There's something else I've been meaning to tell you both, and I fear that it cannot wait." Her eyes momentarily trailed to Minerva, who nodded. As she watched Hugo sit down on his previous seat again, Hermione pondered over how to tell the children. They were no toddlers anymore, but the situation was _anything_ but easy. "I ehm… The job at the Ministry left me with very little time for you both and for myself," Hermione said. "I'm sure you both know." Rose and Hugo quickly nodded.

"Mom, what's going on?" Rose questioned, seeing her mother mulling over whatever that she had to tell them.

"I believe and hope that accepting the post at Hogwarts will not only allow me to see you both more often than when I still worked at the Ministry, but will be better for the new baby as well. I almost lost Hugo due to the stress while working at the Ministry back then. I don't want the same to happen to the new baby, for I might not be as lucky as I was then," Hermione said.

"You're… pregnant?" Rose asked in a rush.

Hermione nodded, the shock that the news seemed to have brought upon her children worrying her. She didn't quite know how to behave, and she looked at Minerva for guidance, wringing her hands in her lap. Minerva's features were set in an expression of concern. _She didn't know either._

Trust Rose to always jump ahead. "Mom, do you have a new boyfriend?" she questioned.

Hermione's head shook. "No," she said. "I don't have a new boyfriend. The new baby is your father's just like you are."

"I don't get it," Hugo voiced. "You and Daddy are no longer together, then how come you're having a new baby from him?"

Hermione stilled her nerves before answering them, "Do you both remember what Mommy told you when we went to live with Granny Jean and Grandpa?" Upon seeing both of her children nod in confirmation, she continued on, "Nothing has changed since then. Mommy and Daddy still love each other very much, and like you both came from that love, so did the new baby. However, it doesn't change that Mommy and Daddy don't fit together. Love isn't always enough."

Slowly, almost reverently, both children began nodding in understanding. Minerva's heart clenched at the interpretation Hermione had given to the situation between her and Ron. Hermione had worded it very well, and in a fashion that would not hurt the children's perception of either parent. The fact that Love isn't always enough was something she herself had discovered in life as well.

"When will the new baby be born?" Rose asked excitedly.

"He or she will be expected around April," Hermione replied.

"Is it going to be a boy or a girl?" Hugo questioned, eyeing her with curiosity.

Hermione couldn't help but smile at her son's question. "I don't know yet, Hugo," she said, "Right now, it is too early still to see, and in any case I want it to be a surprise until the end, just like with you both. I'll love the new baby as much as I love you whether it is a boy or a girl."

Hugo nodded, then jumped off the couch again, first looking at Hermione then at Minerva. "Can we go see our rooms now? Please?"

Minerva stood, trying not to wince at how her ankle caught when she did. "Come on."

As Hermione watched the elder witch leave the room with both of her children trailing after her in excitement, she smiled to herself, thanking her lucky stars for having Minerva in her life at that point.

* * *

><p>I certainly owe <em>asouldreams <em>for all her effort, and all those who have taken some of their time to review!

* * *

><p>Please review... I'm interested in your thoughts!<p>

* * *

><p><strong>DISCONTINUED UNTIL <span>2014<span>**


	36. Notice

** NOTICE **

_January 13, 2015_

Hello! First off, I'm sorry for those of you who had expected an update. I've struggled with _Accidental Magic_ for quite a while, but I am set on actively working on more of this story again. Due to a few inconsistencies that readers have brought to my attention and that I've noticed myself, I've decided to rewrite everything from the beginning to fix that and create a better story arc for this. If you're still with me, and if you read the rewrites especially, I would really like for you to know how grateful I am that this story hasn't been forgotten.

I am aware that I haven't been active. We lost our son on December first, after a long fight.

So far, rewritten: Prologue, Chapter 1-22


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